Snippets of life

Optimism

2007-03-15T15:57:00.000-07:00

I know a faithful few have hoped I had not stopped blogging entirely. I haven't, it has just been really really crazy here. I wanted to do an entry about what is going on, but haven't been able to come up with how to word it properly. I don't want to ask for sympathy, yet thoughts and prayers for a good outcome can never hurt a situation. So I guess while I don't want sympathy, I will take all the hope you can provide.

Small Pants has had a lump on the side of his neck that we had checked out by an ENT a while back. He totally blew us off and made it sound as if every child in the world has them. I know swollen glands can be common, but this one would enlarge with no correlation between his being sick or well.

So we went to another ENT who told us he was very concerned about his lump and mentioned Leukemia and Lymphoma. He has already had a round of blood tests and chest x-rays and we go in tomorrow for a biopsy. It has to be sent off to the lab, so we will still be in the dark tomorrow and for the next few days.

I cannot even begin to get my head around the concept that my child might be very very sick. I know I shouldn't worry until I have to, but that is not how my brain works, and I cannot help but worry and be terrified.

Anyway, I haven't had much to post that has any humor to it. I find that too much melancholy gets old, so I just let the blog go for awhile. I am optimistic that my next post will be soon and will be one of great news. I will follow that one up with more tales of the neighbors - they can always be counted on for a good laugh, can't they?

My Pants and I appreciate your kind thoughts and prayers for our Small Pants. It will all be ok.

A Requiem for Innocence Lost

2006-12-25T19:45:00.000-08:00

My foray into blogging began around Christmas in 2002. That was when Laci Peterson was discovered missing and consequently found murdered and discarded by her husband Scott. She was very pregnant with their first child, a son to be named Connor. Blissfully happy and hopefully oblivious to her husband's double life, she was, by all accounts, a wonderfully vivacious person with a scintillating personality.

The type of girl that we all know - so pretty, yet you can't hate her for it because she is so much fun, so thoughtful and so loving. Her husband was ready to move on and attempted to do so by killing her and throwing her and his unborn son in the bay - fastened to the floor of the ocean by home made concrete anchors. He is now serving time in prison for their deaths.

The story touched me in a way no other true crime story had. I was emotionally involved in this one and searched for every bit of information I could. I found blogs that discussed the case and the people involved and read them every chance I got.

Very few of my friends could understand why I was so addicted to this case. I wasn't sure myself. But I think I could understand Laci - the pure excitement of impending motherhood - especially for the very first time, the fun of preparing the nursery and the love you feel for the baby before you even get to hold him in your arms. All these emotions were still very real to me because Small Pants had just been born at the end of August in 2002. In fact, as we all sat around the den that morning opening presents, the news came on about her "missing" the night before and her smiling face was flashed up on the screen. Along with the immediate her husband did it thoughts, I also felt a huge sense of sadness and loss. I looked at Small Pants, just staring at the blinking tree and smiling - wrapping paper flying by his head flung by his older brother. My family was complete and our home was full of love. This girl's family was forever broken and would never know this happiness.

Every Christmas, I think of Laci and Connor. A mixture of sadness and thankfulness comes over me and I hug my boys even tighter. I think about how my baby is only a little older than hers would have been. If you know nothing about this case, I encourage you to read a little about it. Her smile spoke volumes and her mother, brother and fathers (step and birth) gave such touching stories and memories of a woman we wished we had known under other circumstances. It is hard not to think about Laci and her sweet baby she never was able to hold in her arms and not think about the innocence that was stolen from her. I won't go into details on the case, the circumstances or the truly gory details because it is a disservice to what we should be remembering. We should remember the smile, the hope, the joy and the lives of promise that were taken and not take those we have for granted.

My home is full of laughter, love, a wonderful husband and two beautiful children that I am ever so thankful for. May you all have a very Merry Christmas surrounded by those you love.

You Should Put a Muzzle on Your Pet

2006-12-14T10:45:00.000-08:00

Ok - and now the latest on The Labelers.

Mrs. Labeler has made "visits" to our home and The Bubble's home lamenting the mistreatment of her son. She says that our kids are always calling her son stupid, idiot and the like. I will say that I do not think my boys are angels, but I don't think they are doing all they are being accused of.

Many many times, I have seen Spaz fall off his scooter or trip while playing and immediately scream that one of the other boys has pushed him. This is rarely the case as the other boys are 20 yards away and he didn't know I saw the entire thing. Of the millions of times I have seen the boys playing, Spaz has gotten hurt by one of them maybe four times and it is an accident. He likes to try and get the other kids in trouble. Mrs. Bubble and I just ignore it all for the most part - saying the "Either work it out or don't play together" mantra. But Mrs. Labeler rushes out and interrogates the boys about picking on her son and lectures them for about 15 minutes. She is a child therapist after all.....

Her latest claim is that my oldest keeps telling her son that she is fat.

I asked him about it and he said he would never say that. My oldest is a crappy liar. I can always tell when he is not telling the truth and I believe him when he says he has not said that. That is just not a word we use in our house and I try not to comment on people in that manner. I may say they are a lousy driver, but I don't make remarks around my kids about people that are derogatory. Not because I am such a nice person, but because I know my kids would repeat it in front of them and there I would stand - embarassed. "Mom, isn't she the lady you called a lardass and said couldn't keep her man pleaser shut to save her life?" - right in the middle of a dinner party or something. That would be my luck.

I told Mrs. Labeler after she had said her son said my son had called her fat for about the fifteenth time, that I didn't believe that and that I thought many of Spaz's accusations were fabricated. I gave her examples of situations I had witnessed and how I thought he was wise enough to push her buttons. The kid almost failed Kindergarten last year and you think he didn't notice how stressed she was about him being labeled "stupid?" He knows she is sensitive about that, so he uses it, just like the "fat" comments.

Mr. Labeler, dear sweet loving husband that he is, makes remarks about her weight ALL the time. She put on a bit of weight when she was pregnant and has not lost much of it. I am not ridiculing her at all as I could stand to lose some weight myself! But I cannot imagine Pants telling me all the time "I won't have a fat wife." "You need to lose some weight." And so on - Mr. Labeler actually says things like this to her. But I am about to give you the most incredible comment ever made. The one time I have been left speechless (and that never happens, I assure you). This comment is also the reason why I believe that Spaz is pushing Mom's buttons again - the being accused of being fat upsets her. And since it is mentioned in their house daily by her husband, the kid is well aware of the power of that comment. He thinks if he says one of the other kids is saying it, Mama will rush to his rescue and the other boy will get in trouble. Ever see "The Good Son?" Yep, he's a sneaky little worm.

We were all at The Bubble's house cooking out with some friends of theirs from out of town. We had never met their friends before - I tell you this because it makes the comment from Mr. Labeler even more astounding. Everyone was sitting around chatting, all the kids were upstairs except for the baby and Spaz. It was a pleasant time and we were enjoying ourselves. There was a lull in the conversation when we three ladies were talking about needing to get out and exercise some more. Mr. Labeler breaks out with, and I quote. "It's not really that bad having sex with a fat girl. It's different, but not really bad."

The room was silent and we were all quietly thinking "What the hell?" That her husband would even say that out loud - much less in front of people he had met less than 30 minutes before. WOW. We were all in shock. Mrs. Labeler just looked and us and smiled a weak smile but said nothing. I felt so bad for her, but was in shock. I still can't get over it.

And they think our kids are the reason her son keeps saying she is fat. Ummm..... Hello? McFly????

They keep threatening to move. Which on one hand would be a good thing, but on the other... Damn, they are entertaining. Plus, what if a housefull of midgets moved in or something? That would creep me out. Or what if a family that was even weirder moved in? Nah, nevermind. It'd never happen.

Retrospective

2006-12-12T21:53:00.000-08:00

It has been a while since I posted. Pants Sr. passed away on November 30th. It was very very sad and we are all still in a fog. He was such a good man and that family is so close, that it has been very hard on everyone.

Pants is doing ok - he has his moments and then he moves on. I know it just takes time and he will be better eventually. The holidays are always such a sad time to lose someone. It taints the Christmas' to come with the memory of sadness. Time makes it more tolerable.

I have so much to write about and I have to gather my thoughts and assemble them in some fashion. That may take me a day or so. There is so much emotion involved right now - I have to get it organized and on paper.

On a lighter note.....
Carri - I have a neighbor post I have to get on here. You will LOVE this one. Seriously, Mr. Labeler has truly outdone himself this time.

More about the Neighbors

2006-11-15T00:46:00.000-08:00

Just for you, Carri.

I am in need of a mood lifter, and lo and behold - one came in the form of more neighbor antics. I have decided we live not in a cul de sac, but a cult de sac.

The Labelers continue to mystify me. The younger Pants in our home are all set to start basketball season and we have signed them up for the league. I think that organized sports are a superb way of teaching teamwork, discipline, self esteem and confidence in kids. I know my ball playing all those years has certainly helped me out - a little competitiveness is a good thing. It makes you try harder.

I think it would be especially important for a child that has ADHD to be able to get out all that energy, plus Spaz is as fast as lightning and I think he could become a good little athlete if he had good direction. He wanted to play basketball, but his mom told me they couldn't afford it. They are really struggling right now and have been since summer. She had a baby and took a longer leave than she was paid for, they expanded the upstairs and upgraded themselves into huge debt and they both took off all summer without pay.

Mr. Labeler has been talking about getting a motorcycle for months and months. Well, guess what? He went and bought one. Mrs. Bubble asked Mrs. Labeler "What the hell? You can't barely pay your utility bill and he gets a motorcycle?"

Mrs. Labeler's response? "I know, but if he isn't happy, he makes all of us miserable."

Are you kidding me?

This man is closing in on 50 and he acts like this? And she allows it? Dear God, I cannot imagine how suffocating that must be. I admit I have a true weakness when it comes to purses and kicky little housewares, but I assure you, I don't get them too often. Plus I don't think mine cost as much as a brand new motorcycle. Not to mention, I cannot fathom, telling my kid "no" to something, just because I need $50 more dollars for a downpayment on a toy for myself. That no one else in the house gets any use out of.

Insane. And to top it all off, picture a David Gest or someone like that on a motorcycle. That's what I get to see when he rides it down the street. Not that he looks like David Gest, but it's that whole geek factor. His is pretty high. And he rides it like he is saying "Look at me. Do you see my cool new bike? Aren't I cool, young and sexy?" In a word? NO. You look like a big honking nerd suffering a huge midlife crisis.

How wrong would it be to get a picture and let you people see? I promise you, when he pulls up on that thing, I have to turn away. Pants and I just look at each other and start giggling. I don't think that is the effect Mr. Labeler was going for. At all.

Standing in the Shadows

2006-11-09T21:25:00.001-08:00

Pants Sr. is taking one step forward and one, maybe two steps back. He was getting better, then a setback, then better and now another setback. First, he had his unexpected issue in the OR. Then when he had begun to heal, his belly swelled up like he was about to have triplets - Cause? Collapsed lung and he gets to get a chest tube. Now I have watched my fair share of ER and Trauma - Life in the ER and all that crap on TLC. I know that having a chest tube put in always appears to be the most excruciating thing that ever happens to anyone.

Sometimes, they are pretty accurate on those shows, it seems. Pants' Daddy said that was the worst thing EVER.

His belly doesn't go down much at all, so they take him back in and open him up a little bit more. The surgeon said it was like an innertube being stabbed - air came whooshing out of his abdomen and his stomach immediately deflated. They poked around but couldn't find anything, so they closed him back up. That would begin his healing again.

Then, yesterday they discover a clot in his leg. Thrombosis. So they now have begun a round of blood thinner that will take no less than five days to run it's course. For a man who is always up doing something and has absolutely no desire to retire, this sitting in bed all day is really wearing him down. He had hoped to be home by Halloween. Now, we hope to have him home by Thanksgiving.

We were all supposed to go to the mountains for Thanksgiving - a Pants family get together. I know the boys and I were ridiculously excited and so was everyone else. Of course, my excitement was partially of a selfish nature..... Being in the mountains with them meant I did not have to see my family that weekend! Woohoo! Thanksgiving has never been a big deal to me - I just enjoy the days off, but a big celebration? No. My mother has to get out the fine China and silver service every year and make some big deal about it. That sounds nice in theory, but you must realize that every single time we all get together, it ends badly. Every. Single. Time. My sister and sister-in-law don't like each other too much, they start sniping at each other, my mom gets mad and mutters things under her breath and flings spoons in the sink and I just sit there. Willing my watch to tick faster. For the love of God, has the damn thing stopped? Then, after the meal, everything has to be washed by hand and you have to count all the silver. She swears my nephew threw away a fork one year. So my SIL & I stand at the sink for two hours washing and drying (all the while with instructions being given by my mother and sister) until our hands shrivel up and fall off. My sister never moves from her seat. She is far too busy looking at the sale ads. Determining what she is going to spend my portion of the inheritance on the next day, I am quite certain.

So anyway, I told Pants Sr. that I would be mad and possibly never forgive him if he didn't quit this nonsense and get better so we could go to the mountains. He laughed when I said he was being very selfish and needed to start thinking about me instead of himself. Of course, I was kidding. Sorta.

That is usually how I deal with fear and sadness. Humor and sarcasm. My two best friends. So I am standing in the shadows as this wonderful family deals with the uncertainty, fear and helplessness of watching someone they love struggle. I know it could all be so much worse. I realize we are lucky that he is doing as well as he is. But that doesn't make this any better or easier. The uncertainty is keeping us all from getting our hopes up when he has a good day. He has had many good days only to get scary news the next day. I still am so very afraid that he won't be the same. I have seen that happen with my father and it is hard to accept and hard to watch. It is etched into your brain and haunts you. It seeps into every memory and discolors your thoughts. You can't recall a happy moment without the final portion of that thought being how they changed. How they had become somehow so much less, it seemed, that what they had been.

Whomever said time heals all wounds had no wounds. Time heals nothing when it comes to losing someone you love or having them weaken before your eyes. Time may make the memory and the wound more tolerable, but it is never healed. It is always tender and likely to reopen.

I do not want Pants to have to deal with that. I know eventually he will have to deal with his parents passing, but not yet. Not when there is so much left to do and so many memories left to make. My Daddy died 15 years ago. Fifteen years. And as I sit here typing this, my eyes are filled with tears and my heart is very heavy. If you had told me 15 years ago that this would still affect me like it does, I never would have believed you. I think that is why I am praying and begging for Pants' father to get better and get back to where he was. I just want to protect him from this. I know I cannot, so I just keep trying to reassure him that it will all be okay. He seems to be handling this better than me, so I am afraid he is keeping it all inside. He is exhausted, he hasn't seen the boys for more than five hours in the past two or three weeks and he is working overtime on top of all the nights at the hospital. I worry about him. But I would not let him do this any other way. He needs to be there. For his Dad, his Mom and his sister. I try and go up there during my lunch hour and visit as well as on the weekends, but I think his presence there is much more necessary. He is very strong, protective and kind. I think when he is there, everyone has faith it will all be ok.

I am choosing to believe it will be.

Alternatingly Numb and Panicky

2006-10-27T19:29:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't been around. Believe me, I would have like to have been - we have been sitting at the hospital. Waiting. Pants' daddy had triple bypass surgery today along with an aortic valve replacement. Scary. he had been complaining of shortness of breath and a sore throat whenever he exherted himself and they thought it was acid reflux. (Silly doctors, we all know that only causes you to lip sync on SNL!) Anyway, they did the treadmill and CT Scan to rule out heart issues and they both came back fine, so they sent Pants, Sr. home with some reflux meds and called it a day.

He came back to the Dr. and said it wasn't helping at all, so they scheduled a heart cath, just to be sure. Yesterday, they discovered he had 80% blockage in two arteries and 70% in another one. As well as his valve was calcified. So they went in this morning and took care of all that.

Unfortunately, he isn't doing as well as we had hoped or expected. They had some issues with the site where they took the vein to use for the bypass and he bled alot into his leg and his BP dropped after surgery. Long and confusing Dr. speak story made short - he is going to be on the ventilator and doped up a day or so longer than we and the staff expected - and that would be the best case scenario.

Pants is a very strong man. He is handling this well, but I know he feels so helpless. We all do. I am worried he will keep it all inside. And while I do think it is best to put on a strong front for his mother and sisters, I want him to know he call fall apart in front of me if he needs to. We just have to sit and wait to see if it all heals like it is supposed to and that is very scary. I am alternating between feeling certain that all will be okay and then worried that Pants will have to suffer through the unexpected loss of his father like I did. Or even worse, his father never returning to the man he was. Which is much larger than life. I do have a gut feeling that it will all be okay and that it's just going to take a little longer recovery than we had planned on.

But it is scary to look around the ICU waiting room at his whole family. They look so lost and uncertain. And I feel like a bit of an outsider, even though I am not, simply because I don't know how to fix it or make it better. It just seems so sudden, which it is, and it's like a fog. I know people every day have this surgery and it is no longer as serious as it once was with the strides made in medicine. But I don't know anyone in my family or close friends who have had this surgery, so I don't know what is normal and what should be a major concern.

I guess part of me feels like since I know how stressed and scared they are, having been through it, I should be able to say something to make them feel better. But I don't have the words. I am just being there and trying to keep his mom upbeat and confiodent and watching Pants closely. I know the hazards of keeping it all in and they can be devestating. I just wish I knew what to say, but until we have some definative answers, I am afraid to say too much. Besides, I know how helpless I felt when my Daddy was in the hospital and I would imagine that no one could have said anything then that would have made me feel better. I hope just my being there is enough.

Anyway, please say a prayer or light a candle - whatever you believe in - for Pants, Sr. I will be in and out going to the hospital to stay and trying to keep the boys' schedules as normal as possible. I will post more when I know it.

Pants and I thank you for your kind thoughts.

Some People You Just Can't Reach...

2006-10-18T07:45:00.000-07:00

Pants gets Maxim magazine. It is actually a good read and I enjoy it too (when you overlook the obvious inferiority complex and body issues that arise from turning it's glossy pages) and I really love a little segment they do every month where they print random idiotic comments and conversations they have overheard. Every time I hear something that I think would be perfect for that forum, I should write them down. People never cease to amaze me. And while my quotes occasionally require a bit more detail than those of the pages of Maxim, I still think they are somewhat entertaining.

I plan on posting them randomly every now and then. Just for fun. And because it always makes you feel just a little smarter when you can laugh at someone else's expense and total stupidity. Does me, anyway.

Overheard in the front yard:
Mr. Labeler standing near a big ass oak tree that has dropped probably 10,000 acorns in the last two days: "Are these little nut looking thingys the things that grow those trees?" He's a teacher, people.

Overheard at the office:
"My daughter has a really beautiful singing voice, she is just off key most of the time. But when she does hit the right note, it's so pretty." ??? What the hell? So every 200 notes or so, she is good?

At the grocery store:
Seafood manager: "Yes, ma'am. We do have some fresh salmon that just came in today shipped straight from Washington."

Stupid lady who pronounced the "l" in salmon: "State or D.C.?"
Yep, they pulled those little bastards right out of the Potomac as they were heading upstream to spawn......

On the phone with an agent:
"Do you have a market that will write a process server? He serves people with papers and serves some penises?" ...... I think he meant "subpoenas"

Big Yellow Diesel Freedom

2006-10-17T21:32:00.000-07:00

Yes, yes. Pants and I are back and had a wonderful time. I'll talk more about that later, but there is a much more pressing issue at hand.

Small Pants has begun attending the Pre-K program at Medium Pants' school. They had one class set up at the first of the year, we applied, he was screened, but didn't get his name drawn. They opened a second class a week or so ago and he got picked for that one. Agonizing decision, because I absolutely adore his preschool teachers and the director. They love my Small Pants with all their hearts and have taken such good care of him. But Medium Pants will be starting Middle school next year, and the thought of Small Pants getting on the Elementary school bus alone was stressing me out. Way out. So when the opportunity arose for him to get a year under his belt with Medium Pants keeping guard, I felt it was the best decision. Along with the fact that he will already have friends there when he starts Kindergarten next year.

He started Monday. I took him in and met his new teacher and made a big deal about his classroom, his cubby and his new X-Men backpack. We had planned on him riding the bus eventually, but I wanted to walk him in the first few days. He's only four. While he had been beside himself with excitement for the past three weeks, he suddenly got a very pinched look. He willed himself not to cry, but his face was really struggling not to crumble. For the record, so was mine.

I told him to have a good day, hugged him and left. It was a very long drive to work and I kept feeling like I was forgetting something. It may have just been deodorant, who knows. Anyway, while I know he was fine within minutes of my leaving, that look on his face was etched into my retinas for the rest of my day.

Pants picked the boys up and Small Pants was bubbling over with tales of his first day at "real school." He was even excited about the cafeteria, poor little disillusioned soul. It did make me feel better that he seemed to have a good time and I felt even better this morning when he was again excited to go to "real school." But today...... he wanted to ride the school bus. With his older brother.

I weighed the terror of watching my tiny baby climb onto that big yellow bus against the fact that I would now only have to drive straight to work and not to the daycare first........ He was going to ride it at some point in time anyway....... "OK, Bus rider you are!!" I said.

We waited this morning at the end of the driveway, along with the three other boys on our street who ride the bus too. Small Pants could not contain himself. It can only be described visually as if he were a dog on a chain. Frothing and jumping - doing the very best he could to snap that chain so that he could run and bite the mailman in the ass. He hopped and sang and danced. The bus came down the road ever so slowly and after the other boys got on, I presented my last child I will ever have to Ms. Emily, the bus driver. She smiled and said hello to him, and he sang hello to her back. He plopped down in the front seat and waved good-bye to me as insanely as if he were 19 and going to Florida for Spring Break with a pocketfull of cash and condoms. So long, Mom, see ya later - I am outta here, Lady! Dear God, I thought he was going to snap his little arm off.

I smiled (a weak attempt at one, granted) and told him to have a good day and walked back up the longest driveway in the world. Halfway up, the bus began the familiar beep beep beep signaling that it was backing up and I turned and waved at his window. It was still dark out and I could just barely make out his smiling face waving madly at me. Sadly and predictably enough, that lump in my throat grew and tears began struggling to leave my eyes.

I know it's not actually Kindergarten, but it sure as hell feels like it. And I know they have to grow up sometime, but I didn't realize it would happen so quickly. I also know that I would have been pissed if he had clung to my leg and screamed the entire time I peeled him away from me and stuck his ass in the seat. But still, it is hard. This will be my last baby, and he is no longer a baby. He has now truly joined the ranks of "The Big Boys" and shows no signs of regression.

I walked back into my home and shut the door. It all seemed foreign now - very unfamiliar, like I wasn't even in my house. Then it suddenly dawned on me what was different. For Christ's sake - I am all alone and it is quiet in here!! Woohoo! Sweet Baby Jesus, this is great! I have twenty - count 'em - 20 - whole minutes to myself before I have to leave. Alone. I can sing along to the radio at the top of my lungs, I can walk around in my undies, I can poot without shame or suffer being told it was not as good as Daddy's, I can pee with the door wide freakin' open. This is the life.

So I felt better. And now I do believe that every weekday morning, when I hear the rumbling of the Sweet Diesel of Freedom, I will say "Have a good day and I love you." And after I hear the familiar beep beep beep of the lucious gear they call "reverse," I will smile and say "Hot Damn! This is great!"

And Yet More Neighbor Analysis

2006-10-04T08:15:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I told a story about my neighbors. Rest assured, they have been very entertaining, just nothing worthy of putting in writing. I just do not understand some people. I try and try and then I just have to shake my head and move on.

The Labelers - you know the ones - are an odd bunch. He is freaking meticulous about his car (and let me just cut in and say, it's a used Honda Acord, pleasant means of transportation, but it is no Porsche) and washes it atleast three times a week. Three. He screams if anyone gets anywhere near it. Not that there is anything wrong with taking care of your things...usually. But by contrast, consider the following:

Their house is a complete pig sty and that would not be any type of exaggeration on my part. There are black rings in their toilets, food all over the floor, dust on everything, counter and table tops covered with food and dirty plates and not one clean spot in the sink because it is full of a weeks worth of crap. Plus it has a funky smell - Gee, you think? It is so filthy that they keep the door to their room shut all the time - never opened. That's where they pile everything. Scurvy City - I am not lying. Fear Factor could come in there and ask people to eat something and I would bet half the contestants would back out or fail. Seriously, I know I like a clean house, but when your husband (who always leaves his socks under the ottoman and has difficulty hitting the toilet when peeing) says it is disgusting, you know they are way past the "slightly cluttered" stage. They were both on vacation for 10 weeks during the summer and never touched the broom. Must have been a Battlestar Galactica marathon on Sci-Fi Network or something.

Their yard is always a mess as the guy refuses to weed eat any of the grass around the house. (I think the only reason he even bothers to cut it is because it's a riding mower.) It was almost up over the a/c unit a few weeks ago. And he wondered why "it's just not cooling like it should." When he cuts the yard, but doesn't pick up any limbs or toys. It's pretty noisy when he does cut his grass. Imagine our surprise (sarcasm) when he commented that the mower was messed up. To top it off, it's not just spewing oil, but he ran into the house and broke the wheels off the front. Ok, how damn obliviously fast do you have to be going to hit the house that hard and break the mower?

So now, he wants to borrow Pants' fancy ass John Deere riding mower. The love of his life. He would park it in the bedroom if only I would allow it. I am so afraid. Pants feel obligated to lend it to him because when we first moved Pants borrowed his a time or two before he picked out just which green and yellow husband stealing whore he was going to purchase. But he didn't break it.

Here's the scenario - Label Boy uses the mower, runs over women, small children and God knows what in his yard and returns the mower. Pants cuts our grass the next day or so and LO AND BEHOLD....the mower isn't running right or is all out of whack. Labeler will never admit he did something to it. Never. Here is how I know-

Their son Spaz broke Medium Pants PS2 steering wheel by turning the wheel so hard it snapped. He is a hamfisted little maniac and I prefer he not play with our boys stuff. Anyway, that damn thing cost us about $75 so that wasn't going to just slide (like the 4 beanbag chairs I witnessed Spaz split and when his mother was told about it, she just shrugged and said, oh, sorry) so Pants mentioned it to Mr. Labeler. He said "Sorry about that." Pants paused and after a minute or two said "yeah, me too, because it wasn't cheap." Labeler said, "Oh, so you want us to replace it?" Pants said "Yes, as I would replace any item of yours my kids damaged." He and she bitched about it and implied we were lying until Spaz told them in front of us that he did break it. Long story somewhat shorter - four months later, we had a new one. FOUR months. They were pissed they had to do it and shopped for a used one on e-bay. A new one was sitting at Best Buy for $50. Finally, after Spaz was caught trying to choke Small Pants, they went and bought us the new one - as a peace offering, I am sure.

Yes, you read that correctly - he was choking my young son and about to hit him in the head with a rock when Medium Pants stepped in and stopped it. And yes, Small Pants is not allowed to play alone with Spaz anymore and Medium Pants has been given the green light to intercede with whatever force necessary if it happens again. She called the next day and apologized 28 times. I said the old boys will be boys thing and then said that either her son would get over this aggression towards mine who is 2 years younger, or mine would end up beating his ass one day. And he could - the boy is a tank.

But hey, they replaced the PS2 accessory!

So, given that, you can see my apprehension about allowing him use of the beloved Deere. If he does do something to it, it will take a week or two before he admits it and then, he will take all winter to replace it or pay for repairs. I have suggested that Pants just cut his grass for him until he gets his fixed. It's almost the end of the season and there will only be two or three cuttings needed before winter anyway. Care to place a wager on the chances of Labeler getting it fixed in the off season?

Anyway, the point of this post was to ask why someone would be so anal about his car, but yet live in such filth.I just don't get it. But I do know that when we have cook outs and she asks what she can bring, I always give her something that can be purchased at the deli. I wouldn't eat food from her house or off her dishes unless Joe Rogan was standing there with $5000 for me. And then it would be difficult.

And the Grand Facade, So Soon Will Burn

2006-09-28T21:59:00.000-07:00

Without a noise, without my pride. I reach out from the inside.

Pants and I are getting away for a long (read 4 freaking days - woohoo) in 8 days. I am so very excited. A dear dear friend of ours (I love you, man!) got us a hookup for a cottage on the golf course in Heber Springs. It will be absolutely delicious! No kids, no work, just me, Pants, fishing, golf and some cool antique stores. I cannot wait. It will be so very good for us.

Pants is a wonderful husband and a good man. He has no agenda and what you see is what you get. He doesn't try to be something he is not. I love this about him, but it also has occasional drawbacks. He isn't a big talker when it comes to emotions and what he really feels in his heart. He just doesn't do it and he doesn't try to do it, because it is just not him. Sometimes, not really often, I need him to open up and bare some feelings and emotions. Just a little verification and reassurance.

I don't want to be needy and I usually am not, but sometimes (largely due to past issues before Pants) I need to know that you still are in love with me - coming home every night doesn't affirm that for me all the time. I know I am weak in that respect so I don't usually ask for that reassurance out of thinking it is just me being unecessarily whiney. Then it builds up and I get insecure and afraid. Then it just all comes out. In true "Me" form, I get introspective and retrospective when this happens. Trust me, I NEVER think that any issues are all one person's fault. I sometimes have trouble communicating my needs and feelings too - especially when I think it might make me look like a whiney wimp.

This little break, sans stress and children, will allow us to just get back to where we should be. It will allow us to regain our security and connection with each other. I know Pants loves me and he knows I love him. Believe me, the man knows. I think these few days away will allow us to get close again. We have been running in so many different directions with the boys soccer, Pants working 10 & 11 hours days, me working and rushing to get home and get the boys where they need to be - it has been ridiculously hectic these past few months.

We will have a wonderful time and I am totally stoked about it. Sightseeing, golfing, spending quality time ALONE together. Maybe I will get some great pictures. Don't get all excited, people, there will be no porn posted.

Does That Make Me Crazy??

2006-09-26T22:06:00.000-07:00

Stolen, borrowed, ripped off - whatever, this idea for an entry comes from a friend of mine who plays this game. Patterned after Gnarles Barkley's song, you have to list several (we'll say 10-15) idiosyncracies about yourself that others could perceive as indicative of psychosis.

It sounds easy, but the catch is that you have to reveal more of yourself than you wish to reveal. Exposing your quirks to others is sometimes uncomfortable and when you add the fact that it makes you take a harder look at yourself.... creepy. It is similar to the "25 Things" but you have to tell more embarassing things and some I am not proud of. At all.

I cannot go to bed if my kitchen is not spotless.
I think midgets are freaking gross.
I can't step on the chalk lines when taking the field in a ballgame.
I throw up atleast twice the day before going to the dentist I get so nervous.
I had a relationship with a married man years ago.
Pants said he knew he was going to marry me the first time he kissed me.
He never told me that until we had been together 4 years.
Kissing him makes my knees jelly.
I sometimes worry I love him way more than he loves me.
I can never do anything that would make my mother proud of me.
I think my sister has a crush on my husband.
I would love to be 20 pounds lighter.
If I had $5000 laying around, I'd buy a nice rack.
I regret not telling my dad a million things before he died.
I sometimes wonder what my life would be like without kids.
I sometimes wonder how I lived without them.
I can't poop anywhere but my home.
I am afraid I relate to one child better than the other because we are more alike.
I am terrified that hurts the other child.
I am terribly judgemental.
I try to change that pretty often, but am unsuccessful.
I worry about everything.
I can't eat corn - it makes me gag.
I have trouble accepting compliments - mainly because I don't believe them.
Trampolines make me pee my pants.

That's all I have right now. Sorry.

Left of Center

2006-09-19T22:19:00.000-07:00

I received a few e-mails asking me how Pants and I are. Some genuinely concerned and some drama seekers, I think. Even though Pants and I are struggling right now, trying to find a balance for us, I still think he is hot. I am still very much in love with him. He is still the one that I love and want. He is my best friend. That will never change - especially just because we need time together to talk and work through some things. Maybe a little breaking down and breaking through. Get everything back where it should be - back on track - back to being centered.

It would be silly to just ignore how much we care about each other and just move on - as it has been implied I should do. We aren't having problems, per se, just a bump in the road - calm down, people. I am uncertain what will happen and how we are going to address some of the issues, but we will do it together. I don't think we are experiencing anything that is new - a million couples have already gone through this type of phase and many more will. I have to have faith that it will be ok. I will not let it all come down to apathy.

Anyway - he is still very hot to me. And I don't really care what you think.

Attitude

2006-09-17T20:29:00.000-07:00

Small Pants was thrilled I took a picture before their very first soccer games. Medium Pants? Not so much. In fact, he has that look of disdain that I have seen on my teenage nephews faces. That "Lady, I really do not have time to indulge your creepy parental Kodak moment capturing right now. Whatever. I cannot be bothered with you" look.

I myself have NEVER used that look - not ever.

Ridiculously Creepy

2006-09-14T21:31:00.000-07:00

I despise spiders - no matter the size - they freak me out. Snakes? Don't bother me a bit. Spiders? I kill them all! Well, except for the Granddaddy Longlegs ones - they eat mosqitoes by the pound. I am truly a spider stomping fool - it is the only thing that I will scream for Pants to come kill if it has me cornered. I am getting all itchy and creeped out just thinking about this.

Now that you are aware of my phobia, we have a "pet" spider. One morning, I looked out the big picture window in the kitchen and there was a spider on it. It was outside, so the hair on the back of my neck didn't go up, thank you. But I recognized it as a baby writing spider (or zipper spider) - the kind that makes those Z's down the center of the web. You ever seen one? They get pretty big and are bright green or yellow with black on them. They are pretty cool as spiders go. They rock their web and make it bounce back and forth to catch bugs and take down their webs every few days and make a new one. Tidy and active little arachnids they are. I thought the boys would enjoy watching her for a few days.

Anyway, I showed them, thinking she would move on in a few days and we left her alone. Small Pants, who is a HUGE Spiderman fan, named her Mary Jane after Mary Jane Watson - the girl who stole Spidey's heart. In truth, he calls her Mary James, but I ignore that. So we checked on Mary Jane daily and boy, did she grow.

Here is a picture of her nasty ass from yesterday.

Freaking gross, isn't it? And that picture doesn't really show you how huge she is!!

This one is better:

Ewww. Itchy here - really itchy and totally skeeved.

But the boys have really enjoyed watching her grow and catch bugs. I admit, it has been neat - remember the double paned huge window between us. That makes me feel safe. She has been living there for about three months and we have all grown attached to her. Even the neighbors know her name, check on her and comment on how big she has gotten. Just like we had a new baby or something.

Sadly... I will have to lie to the kids and tell them she moved away or something. This morning when we were leaving, I noticed a big ass egg sac - big as in the size of a small plum - up in the corner of her web. I muttered a "Holy Shit" and we backed down the driveway. Mary Jane and her luggage may be meeting an untimely demise later today. Unless I can convince Pants to catch her in a jar with her Bag-O-Kids and move her far down in the yard. Just the thought of 50,000 little spiders crawling through my flowerbeds - right outside my kitchen - is possibly more than I can bear.

But then guilt, my old friend, steps in and I think how the kids would like watching another one grow, and I am not sure if I can move her. Or squish her beneath the soles of my shoes. It's not like she's a black widow or something, you know? But she is still creepy as shit. Ahh, the dilemma of a naturalist - never thought it would happen to me.

No, You Funny Funny Man - I Am NOT Getting A Minivan

2006-09-14T06:24:00.000-07:00

I am now, officially, a "Soccer Mom." Dear God - it all happened so very fast. I don't remember when it actually took place, but now that both boys are playing soccer - Medium Pants for "The Demolition" and Small Pants for "The Beetles" - I have now earned that moniker. It is a definative sign of the Apocolypse.

My dear brother, whom I love with all my heart, commented to me that I was now the dreaded soccer mom. My next step in the metomorphosis was to rush out and buy a minivan. He is such a jackass sometimes. I said that the SUV we currently own was working just fine, thanks. Besides there will be no new auto purchasing going on at the Pants household any time soon - BRACES!!! Remember?

He said that they had a minivan and loved it. I replied.... Yes, well that would be because either there is not a pharmacy OR a Circle K near your home, judging by the fact that you have 4 kids - and two of them came as a surprise. I'll give you one surprise, but two? Do you not know how the other three got here? Get cable for God's sake.

I plan on getting a new SUV in the next few years, so no minivan - especially now that I can get one of those DVD players in the ceiling in a Tahoe! Who needs an Aerostar? Not me, no sir. No can do. Seriously - just so not me. At all. I know they are nice and roomy and you can split the brats up so they aren't poking each other in the eye. And they are fine for some people, just not me. So all you minivan owners out there - don't send me hate mail. I just don't want one - the fact that you have one is fine. Really.

All My Pants

2006-09-08T07:42:00.000-07:00

I love this bunch of weirdos so very much.

My Music

2006-09-07T21:44:00.000-07:00

I heard it said somewhere that one day all good things come to an end.

I turn around to see you.

And if I do or not, it all depends.

I was born the day I met you,

Lived a while when you loved me,

Died a little when we broke apart.

Yesterday, it would have mattered.

Now today, it doesn't mean a thing.

All my hopes and dreams are shattered now.

I'm in a lonely place without you.

I walk the streets alone at night sometimes and think about you.

I look as strangers pass.

And wonder how I'll live without your love.

I was born the day I met you,

Lived a little when you loved me,

Died a little when we broke apart.

Suddenly, this world's no longer bright.

I'm alone and lonely every night.

Won't you bring back your love that's out of sight?

I'm in a lonely place without you.

I'm in a lonely place without you

The Smithereens - circa 1989

Re-Fueling May Be Necessary

2006-09-07T07:29:00.000-07:00

This should be written on every marriage certificate and etched on bathroom walls everywhere.

I am exhausted. No. I mean Really Really exhausted. Not just tired and needing more sleep, though that would be wonderful. My bones and muscles are tired. We went to bed last night - I think Pants had big plans - and before he could finish brushing his teeth, I was sound asleep. Dead to the world. Poor Pants.

Pants and I are not connecting like we used to. I'm just not feeling the fire. Don't misunderstand - he is still scintillatingly hot to me. Sometimes I just look at him and think "Yum." But lately - everything has just gotten in the way. We have both been so busy that we haven't even really had the chance to ask each other about our day, much less, spend some quality time together. Everything is pulling us in a million different directions and the first thing we seem to let slide is each other. Don't worry - we are still gettin' it, just not as exceptional as usual.

We are still very much in love with each other and I know we are fine. We just need some time alone. No kids, no work, no bills, no phones - just beverages, quiet and us. God - how great would the beach be right now? But I think we may have to settle for an evening alone with the kids at their grandparent's house. A long weekend somewhere close would be so great. Just a few days to ourselves. It just feels like we are running out of gas and need to refuel. I just want to get back to where we need to be. Where we want to be.

Well Worth the Cash

2006-09-07T00:48:00.000-07:00

I would say that the money spent on Small Pants' petting zoo/pony ride birthday party was well spent.

He really wanted me to stop taking pictures. He's all "OK. Will you please stop now?"

And Pants was quite pleased that the farm employees cleaned up all the shit - literally.

Potty Mouthed Bitch

2006-09-04T19:48:00.000-07:00

I am an avid user of profanity. I know it is not attractive, but in my defense, I only use it when it carries weight. I try not to just throw words out there unecessarily - I like to use them to their fullest power.

That being said, we cooked out at some friend's house this weekend. He had some friends in town and wanted us to meet them. "Bob" came with his two daughters ages 12 and 7. His wife chose to stay at home. In another state. Um, I thought that was pretty weird.

"Bob" cusses alot. Which usually doesn't bother me, but he did it in front of his kids. And my kids. I try to really curtail my language in front of my kids and do a pretty good job of it. "Bob" used the F-word no less than 5 times in front of all the kids. Not to mention all the other lovely words that he used. If he had been at my house, I would have asked him to watch his language in a polite way. Since we too were guests, I just tried to keep my kids out of the room and we made a fairly early exit. We weren't rude, but we didn't stay as late as we would have if I hadn't been in fear of my kids getting expelled today at school for following in "Bob's" footsteps.

Also, the people whose house we were at didn't ask him to be more careful either. And this was early in the evening before everyone began to get their buzz on. I can only imagine how it progressed.

I am funny about my kids language - they can't use "butt," "Oh my God" or "ain't." I know that last one isn't a cuss word, but it bugs me really really badly. The others are just tacky and white trashy. They of course cannot use any of the other cuss words either. And they get in trouble when they do, so it was hard to sit and watch this guy talk like he did. I would glance at his daughters when he would let one fly - expecting them to be shocked. But no, they didn't even blink. Bob was a funny guy and we would have really enjoyed hanging around him without the kids present. But I was uncomfortable with my kids hearing all that.

So as I win another star on my "Parent of the Year" Certificate, I say to all you skeptics who think I parent horribly: "Screw you, Bitches."

Way Too Comfortable With Each Other

2006-08-30T06:40:00.000-07:00

Me: "Hey, you wanna bend me over the sink and get a shot off before you leave for work?"

Pants: "Uh, I think I will take a raincheck. My stomach hurts."

Me: "See you later."

As soon as he mentioned his stomach hurt? I entered "shut down" mode. You know the one - everything goes blank and you are not aroused in the least bit. In fact, you are a bit nauseated. Similar to the fog that overcomes you when someone mentions your parents having sex.

I must go bleach my mind's eye now, thank you.

I miss you, Daddy.

2006-08-29T12:34:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my Father's death 15 years ago. Should the term "anniversary" even be used? Probably not as I like to think of those as celebrations, not as days that you would rather not recall.

As I have mentioned - I loved my Daddy. He was wonderful, funny, smart and just all-together great. So many memories of him run through my thoughts every day. I keep hoping that one day I will be able to think about him and talk about him without choking back tears or getting that lump in my throat. Every year passes and I am no closer to being able to do that. Fifteen years. That is a long time, and yet, it feels like just the other day. Every day, I hear something I know he would have laughed at, or I think about something I would like his opinion or advice on.

I miss my Daddy. Terribly. So much that it really does hurt sometimes. There is so much I never got the chance to say. So many things I should have done or said. So many things I wish I could change. So much guilt for not being there when he needed me - I guess I just wasn't used to him needing me. It was hard for me to see him like that - he was always so very strong and to see him as less than that was too difficult for me. I think that is the reason for all the tears and sadness. There was so much I wanted to say and was just too afraid to put it out where it could be heard.

I miss my Daddy. I will never stop loving him or appreciating all he did for me. My only hope is that he can still see me and knows how sorry I am. And how now, with children of my own, I finally get it.

You were so right, Daddy. I love you.

Happy Birthday, Small Pants!

2006-08-28T18:06:00.000-07:00

Small Pants turned 4 last week. Wednesday; August 23, 2006 to be exact. His birthday party was Saturday - complete with petting zoo and pony rides. It was so much fun and he had the best time ever!

We invited his friends from pre-school and his friends from a few families in our neighborhood that we hang out with. Everyone got some good pictures and seemed to have a good time. I will possibly put one or two up of Small Pants in the next day or so. He loved the pony rides.

The party was to start at 2:00 in the afternoon. He began asking me at about 7:00 in the morning "Is it two o'kwok yet, Mama?" But he was patient and got ridiculously excited when his friends started arriving. Bless his little heart, he fell asleep in my lap at 7:30 that night - totally exhausted. I, too, was pretty tired - having 15 kids in your house will do that to you. Thank goodness most of the party was outside.

And just in case you were wondering if everyone behaved...... No. Pants decided to use my digital camera and take pictures of the poor goat's pendulous testicles. He thought they were pretty funny. I was so ashamed that my husband took picture of balls. You think he'd never seen them before. Photos of nuts.

I will not even begin to tell you what happened when the donkey had to pee.

Randomness

2006-08-12T13:44:00.000-07:00

WHY OR NEIGHBORS ARE SURE TO LOVE US:

Small Pants jumps into the pool repeatedly. That is his favorite part of "swimming." He yells at the top of his lungs each and every time at a decible level that can be heard for miles:

"Cannonbarf"

THE NEED FOR ENUNCIATION:

Pants gets the boys bottoms sometimes when they are playing, just a little butt pinch. As they were playing last night, Small Pants said:

"Daddy, please don't get my Butt Hogs"

(We think he was aiming for the word "buttocks.")

THE LAWS OF PHYSICS:

Several years ago, Medium Pants was playing outside with one of his friends. The friend was climbing on the swing set, fell down and began to cry. Medium Pants came inside and said:

"Mama, the horses of gravity got Matthew. Can you come help?"

Frustration and Anger

2006-08-10T07:49:00.000-07:00

I begin by stating that I truly believe that some people should not be allowed to procreate. An intelligence test should be required as soon as you reach puberty and if you flunk it? Sorry, snip, snip. It would make the world a better place and protect so many helpless kids.

When will these clowns learn?

It is 100 degrees here in the sun. And that does not include the heat index which pushes that number up about four or five degrees. One hundred and five degrees. Newscasters and DJ's saying repeatedly are screaming - Do not go outside unless you have to. Take frequent breaks. Drink tons of water. And finally, do not leave pets or children in the car - even for two minutes - even if the window is cracked.

And yet, it happens every summer here. Yesterday, a woman left her 15 month old baby in her car while she ran into a friends house. He died. She was only going to be in there a few minutes according to her. The temperature in the car was over 120 degrees. She had left the car running with him sleeping in the back and the a/c going. But it malfunctioned and he was killed. I can't imagine that poor child's suffering and struggling. He probably cried and cried, but she was inside the house and never heard him. She was in there for 20 minutes, never checked on him and he was dead when she came out to leave.

That happens to be only the first fatality. There were several more instances where people saw small children strapped in their carseats in unattended cars in parking lots. They called the police. One woman was in the DHS office for over an hour and didn't come out until the police paged her. AFTER they removed her five-month old twins from the backseat of a car that was 125 degrees inside and transported them by ambulance to the hospital. She had to be paged!!! Thank God someone saw those kids and called the police. Another woman left her three kids in the car when she went into the hospital to visit a friend.

Here's the thing - and the root of my anger with these parents. You should NEVER EVER leave your child in the car - whether it is 100 degrees or 40 degrees outside. That is one of the first rules of parenting. I know taking that car seat in and out is a huge pain in the ass. I know it's heavy and your arms are full and you will be back in just a second. Maybe you are running in to pay for gas. Maybe it's raining. Maybe you will just be a second. So fucking what - take the child with you.

The fact is, these people are so damn lazy and stupid that they should not be allowed to have children. It is a parent's job to protect their child and these people put them in harm's way simply because they don't feel like getting that seat out of the car. It is always babies who cannot unbuckle themselves and they basically just cook in that car. Just ignore the weatherman screaming at you from your tv set DO NOT, under any circumstances, leave your child in the car - even if it is just for a minute. You can't be bothered and it is asking too much for you to carry your child with you. It is easier for you to leave them in the car - defenseless. Just like it is easier for you to sit on your ass and wait for that check every month. Thank your local taxpayers, because now we also get to pay for your defense when you stand trial.

It breaks my heart every summer. So far we haven't had any left on day care vans - which is unusual, because every summer atleast two children die in a daycare van somewhere in this city.

It is infuriating and yet, it has now become commonplace. It doesn't even surprise us anymore - and that is a sad commentary on society today. I think punishment should be swift and strong. Make that parent sit in that car and swelter. And after they are at the brink of heat stroke, pull them out and strap them into the chair. If they have no more concern for their child that to take them out of the car, why should we have any concern for them.

This may be harsh to some of you, but it makes me so angry that I don't care. How stupid can they be? They complain about how hot it is and how they just can't stand it. Then they strap that poor child into his seat and leave him in an oven.

My only consolation is that summer will be over soon.

Aging Not So Gracefully

2006-08-07T12:36:00.000-07:00

A new school year. Summer is over. Medium Pants will begin the 5th grade and Small Pants will begin his Pre-K program at preschool and begins Kindergarten next year - the same year his brother starts middle school. I feel so old. I know, I know - school hasn't ended this year yet and I am already thinking about next year. But my babies will be big boys. No more sweet little boys - they will be starting new stages. Medium Pants will be hanging out with his friends more and possibly even liking girls (oh Dear God) and Small Pants won't want me holding his hand and hugging him in front of anyone.

It scares me so much more than it does them. I know I should be more mature about it, after all, this is what happens - they grow up. But I didn't know it would happen so fast. I was just changing their diapers the other day. While part of me is thinking I should be counting down until the last one turns 18, I know I will miss all the noise. I realize that is quite sometime away, but it seems like it is just spinning by so fast.

And it makes me feel really really old. I just hope they come back and visit me sometimes. Even if it's just to wipe the spittle off my chin.

A Trip To The Underworld

2006-08-05T22:32:00.000-07:00

School supply shopping. I don't understand why I ever got excited about it as a child, but I do now understand the look on my mother's face when it was time to go do it.

We had to go to Walmart (trust me people, if there were any other place close, I would go elsewhere. In fact, I wrote the Target Corporation a request to build one here. I close each prayer every evening with "and please let them build a Target within 20 minutes of our house. Amen") and it was a freaking nightmare. Medium Pants and I wandered into the store at about 9:30 in the morning on a Wednesday. Not terribly crowded, so that was in that godforsaken shithole's favor. We picked out what the boys needed - markers, glue, pencils, crayons, paper, folders, etc. and made our way to the front of the store.

They had ONE regular lane open. ONE. There were a couple of Express lanes, but since I had about 45 items, I was excluded from that. They had the self-check, but I really didn't want to scan 45 pieces of crap. So we looked at the ONE lane that was open. There were six people standing in it with carts overflowing. I looked at that and began to feel my blood pressure rise.

We opted to self check. I didn't realize that only four of my items were heavy enough to trigger the bagging sensor. If I had known that, I would have gone to the express lane and dared them to say something to me.

We begin our scanning. I drop the crap in the bag after it's scanned like I am supposed to - only the piece of shit doesn't register it. The perky bitch on the computer keeps telling me "Place item in bag or press Skip Bagging." So, I press skip bagging, not knowing that you can only do that three times in a row. After the third time, perky bitch tells you to wait for an attendant.

So it goes, every three items, I have to stand and wait for the attendant to come punch in her code and clear the system. Only so I can scan three more items and wait on her again. And just for the record, I don't know if she was arthritic or what, but c'mon lady - get the lead out of your ass, would you?

Finally, after she had to punch in her code about 4 times, I lost my shit. I asked her, after telling her that I absolutely despised that store and would go elsewhere if there were any alternative, if she was smart enough to override the system so I didn't have to wait on her slow ass after scanning every three bottles of Elmer's glue?? Since there was only ONE real lane open, I didn't want to spend my entire freaking day in that store, could she either fix the self check or shove all my Crayola shit up her incompetent ass?

She just looked at me with the most vapid eyes I have ever seen. I don't think she even realized I was mad. She just said she could, and did it. So after that, it only took me a few more days to finish checking out.

As Medium Pants and I were walking out to the car, he said: "Mama, why is always so hot in that store?"

Without missing a beat I said "Because it is Hell, son. When you die, if you don't go to heaven, you will be stuck wandering the aisles of Walmart and trying to check out because that is Hell, right there."

He just looked at me and said "You hate that place, don't you?"

He is in Challenge Class, folks. A real brilliant kid.

Holy Halitosis, Batman!

2006-08-02T20:49:00.000-07:00

I just returned from the dentist with the two boys about two and a half hours ago. I am still reeling from the shock. They each have a few cavities (damn you Godforsaken Double Bubble) but the main concern is the need for Medium Pants to have a "Orthodontical Evaluation" - Meaning, that little bastard needs braces and God knows what else.

He has overcrowding issues and some permanent teeth are turning as they come in to compensate for it. As the dentist was telling me all this, all I could think of was this:

"Hmmmm. If I knock the damn things down his throat next time he sasses me, I could possibly come out cheaper here. I mean, dentures have to cost less than braces, ya' think? I think I'll get an estimate on our next visit."

Maybe I should have titled this one "Parenting Poorly Yet Again."

The One In Which I Parent Poorly

2006-07-27T07:46:00.000-07:00

I like people to use proper grammar. My parents, my siblings and I were all English majors. When one of us would use an incorrect tense or poor grammar, my parents would either not respond to our question or correct us immediately. Sadly, I inherited this little trait. I correct my children and I correct the neighbors' children when they are in my house. I don't correct Pants, ummm..... usually. I don't correct other adults, unless they are of the smartass - knowitall variety.

The other day, the boys were playing in the front yard with some other kids. We have a big front porch with rocking chairs and big brick steps, so we usually sit out there on the steps and watch them (and officiate, if necessary). One of the boys lives up the road from us, and while he's as sweet as he can be, he is not the most brilliant of the bunch. I must be honest here, sorry if I offend, but it's part of the story.

The neighbor and I were sitting on the steps and apparently the kid said something rather stupid as he was leaving. I didn't hear it, so I don't know what was said but Medium Pants came up to the steps and made the following comment to the other boys:

"Well, if he was, he's an idiot."

I must segue here and say that sometimes I am quite guilty of allowing things to pop out of my mouth. I think it is commonly referred to as letting your mouth overload your ass. It doesn't happen too often - I have trained myself fairly well. I think. OK, back to topic...

As I was sitting there, with the neighbor don't forget, it happened. I said:

"Son, the proper grammar would be 'If he were, he's an idiot' not was."

A few seconds passed......... OK, Maybe it was minutes. Anyway, shut it. Then, thank God, apparently some parenting chip in my brain kicked in and I said:

"And don't call people idiots. It's not nice."

See??? I Never Said They Were Perfect!

2006-07-24T11:57:00.000-07:00

Medium Pants has issues. Everything in his world must be even, equal and fair. The world must revolve around him. It is written. I was told by a friend that this was just a stage - I surely hope so. He isn't spoiled and we are quick to discipline, so I don't know where this came from and why it exists.

Here is a wonderful example that made my eyes pop out and me drive home with him in COMPLETE silence. Those of you with kids know that never happens. Ever. We went back to school shopping at a local store and the boy racked way up. They were having a big sale and I did very well with my purchases AND used my 20% off coupon. I got him 5 pairs of pants, 4 pairs of shorts and 7 shirts - for $68. Amazing - I was so proud. And I let him pick out what he wanted, within reason, so I thought I was being a good parent. I didn't buy anything for either of the other Pants. Just Medium Pants. It was all about him.

As we were leaving, after a restroom break, we had to pass through the purse section. Yes, I know. I know. Like a moth to the flame. I said I was going to look just a tad since they were having such a superb sale - he just rolled his eyes and laughed (even my kids know how I am about purses...) . I found a lovely little purse that fit so perfectly on my shoulder and was marked down to $17 from $45 - Dear Lord, that's criminal!! He asked if I was going to buy it and I said I thought I might.

He made a strange face and then asked "What do I get to get?"

I said "What?"

He said "What do I get to get? You are getting something."

I said "I believe that bag of $70 worth of crap is what you are getting."

He said "But I didn't want this stuff. Don't I get to get something I want?"

I said "Ummm. You are kidding, right?"

We stood and stared at each other.

He said "It's not fair. I want something too."

At that very moment - with the mention of the "It's not fair" mantra - I think my head exploded. Splattering brain matter and blood all over the lovely purses on sale.

I just turned and walked out of the store and to the car. With no explanation, no comment and no emotion (even though I was now headless). He ran along behind me dragging that bag loaded down with things he didn't even want. We got in the car and he knew he had messed in his nest as my daddy would have put it.

He said "But, Mama, I just wanted something I want since you were going to get something you wanted."

I said "I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Do not even speak to me because I do not want to hear a word you have to say."

We got home after a fun filled 40 minute ride of death and Pants knew immediately upon seeing my face the shit was about to hit the fan. I filled him in and let him handle the lecture and all. I was far too angry and would have said something I regretted. It wasn't just the selfishness of his behavior, it was also the fact that I didn't buy that purse! $17 people!! Holy Crap.

Pants said afterward that I didn't need another purse anyway. Idiot - doesn't he realize that I have to assist the economy and that purse will never be that cheap again?!?!

Just to prove my point, I am going by that store on my lunch hour later this week and buying the damn thing. I just dare one of them to say something about it. I will splatter brain matter and blood in their faces! That'll show them!

Fallout

2006-07-19T07:43:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you read the Suburban Snafu entry - you should have. In it I briefly describe the Labelers. Mr. Labeler is one of those poor souls that is never happy. He was talking about moving before they even finished closing on their house now. He demanded a particular style of door, and then, two weeks later, wants to buy a different kind. He does this about everything. What he says tomorrow will directly contradict what he said two months ago or will say one month from now. I can't keep up with his cockamemie schemes. And I don't know how to spell that word. Keeping that in mind, he has mentioned a few times over the course of the two years we have been neighbors that he wants to move away. Last month it was going to be when Spazzie started High School - he will start first grade this fall. The month before that, he loved our neighborhood and was never going to move.

Things between his wife and I have been fine, but a little different since the Snafu was addressed and handled. They have been spending a ton more time with him (their son) and a little bit more time outside. With all this, she had a revalation - he is out of control and she is stressed way the hell out. Those are her own words. I guess they ignored or overlooked how uncontrollable he is before because he was on his own in the neighborhood so much. Now that they are trying to reign him in and having to be around him more, they see it. He screams at them when he is asked to do something and has fits and tantrums every day. They don't believe in spanking, so there's that to chew on. Oh, and she's a child therapist........... a CHILD THERAPIST, people! Hmmmmmm. Good luck with that, and I will not be contacting you if my child ever needs one.

Anyway, Mr. Labeler is a band teacher and is switching to a different high school this year in a better part of town. Mrs. Labeler told me last night that if he doesn't like it (as if), they are going to put the house up for sale and move far away.

cricket....cricket...cricket...

I assume this is because of one of the following reasons:

1) She is still pissed off at me.
2) She thinks a new setting will make her marriage and child issues better.
3) She has given up fighting him on every back and forth opinion he has.

I am leaning towards #1. I think she knows that while things are okay between us again, they will never be like they used to. I think she is also concerned, after seeing her child in action, that he is very difficult and thinks moving away will help. I don't think either of these "reasons" are valid, personally. You cannot live in a subdivision, let your child run free and not have compromises that must be made with the neighbors. And I seriously doubt all others would be as kind about it as me. If you child is out of control, moving will not change his behavior.

While I would hate to see her go, things have changed between us. I have lost a great deal of respect for her. She allows that child to scream at her, hit her, break things and throw fits and nothing is ever done - there is no punishment or consequences. It's like she has just given up - and he is only 6 years old. Things are only going to get worse. But yet, she is so very quick to dissect another child's personality traits and condemn the parenting if she sees a "flaw." Weird, huh.

Anyway - given her husband's penchant for blowing in the wind, he may decide not to move. Who knows? But for the time being, I will just sit back and watch it all unfold. At the very least, it provides Pants and me some good topics to discuss.

Not In His Job Description - Until Now

2006-07-18T07:45:00.000-07:00

I am back from being out of town. I had to go to Myrtle Beach - on business, people, I swear. Do not take into consideration that I was there for three and a half days and attended only 3 hours of meetings. There were also dinners and lunches and networking and schmoozing. It was a difficult few days of work, I assure you. I am just exhausted. Really. And it's not just because the sun and the beach were so draining. Really, I promise.

I flew out Thursday morning to Altanta and then on to SC. I got up and took the boys to their respective places for the day - both were in good moods. I was eager for a few days of relaxation, ummm, I mean work, but I still knew I would miss all my Pants. Nature of the beast.

While I was standing in the Atlanta airport (which I think might just be what hell will be like - complete with rude employees and smelly travelers) my cell phone rang. It was Pants with the stellar notification that preschool had called him. Small Pants was running fever. 103.5 to be exact. Pants had left work and was going to get him.

I immediately felt very guilty. He was fine when I dropped him off and had not been the least bit whiney over the past few days. I am always the one who takes off and retrieves the sickly children or stays home with them. Not because Pants isn't capable but because he doesn't get paid if he doesn't work. Besides, boys want their mama when the don't feel well. I don't think that changes much as they reach adulthood either.

Here I was - many miles from my precious baby and he needed me. I needed to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. I needed him to sit in my lap and watch Power Rangers three or four times. I needed to pump him full of fever reducers and give him a cool bath. I needed to be home. I was suddenly overcome with nausea. My child needed me, but more unsettling....was the fact that Pants might do just as good a job taking care of Mr. Sickly as me. What then? Would he still cry for me when he was hurt or sick?

I knew that Pants would do just fine. He is a wonderful father and just because he doesn't usually take care of that portion of parenting, it's not because he can't. Anytime they hurl anywhere but the toilet? I always make him clean up the barf - I just can't do it. I would end up adding more to the pile - I just can't even hear it happening. Ick. Pants - What a Saint. But I was always the one to hold them and let them sleep in my lap and baby them.

It felt so very strange to be so far away from home and my responsibilities. I longed to be home and taking care of the puny one, but also, there was no way my ass was getting up from that beach any earlier than it had to. This was the first time I had been alone and able to relax in 10 years. Sweet. I could lay by the pool or beach and not have my heart jump in my throat when I heard a splash - I didn't have to check and make sure it wasn't my kid drowning. A slice of heaven.

I needn't have worried. Pants was a warrior and babied that child and took his temperature (rectally, even. Dear Lord - I told you that man is a Saint) and watched his fever go down. He even let him sleep in our bed so he could keep an eye on him throughout the night. And so it turns out, Sweet Small Pants is/was fine, just a weird fever. Although I keep checking for chicken pox - any spots yet? Let me see your belly. OK, how about your back?

They were at the airport to pick me up and Small Pants was so excited to see me he was dancing. Again, I shouldn't have worried - he still loves me.

So now I know, and so does Pants, that he can handle the day to day crap. He is still the Uncontested Champion Barf Cleaner-Upper though. I ain't doin' it. Eww, I just can't. even. think. about. it. Double Ack.

Things That Make You Go "What the hell??"

2006-07-12T12:53:00.000-07:00

I am going out of town yet again, so I won't be around until next week. Miss me!

But I will leave you with a description of a sighting on my lunch hour. It will make you shake your head.

Picture: Two-door Yugo, circa early 90's (maybe). Back quarterpanel smashed in. Ceiling cloth hanging down. Rear windows broken out with plastic and duct tape covering them. Dear Lord, this vehicle should have been put down years ago.

This lovely ride was pulling out of the local "Auto Radio" place here with a set of speakers in the back that had the car's ass almost dragging the ground. I could see them through the rear window, that's how big they were. He was blasting out some Kanye West crap or maybe it was Snoop Dogg - sorry I am not really up on the rap scene. Anyway, all you could hear was the bass and expletives.

This idiot just spent twice as much on a sound system than his damn car is worth. He must have traded in his "grill" on it.

A Reunion Of Sorts

2006-07-10T12:40:00.000-07:00

Many many moons ago, when I was in my late teens and stepping out on my own, I formed a friendship with a guy named Pete. Yes, dear, it's you. Our friendship was very cool in that he would take care of me when I was too drunk to take care of myself and I protected him from a frighteningly unattractive girl we worked with. She had the hots for old Pete and for the life of me, I can't understand why he didn't reciprocate. Perhaps it was her overabundance of chest hair, or her bad breath, or the fact that she was just plain scary - she could have crushed any one of us like a bug if she had wanted to. Whatever it was, he never did go out with her. Largely thanks to me as I would run cover for him whenever we all went out after work. I think we succeeded in making her think we were a secret item, so she eventually left him alone.

We were only friends; however, and great ones at that. We made each other laugh and also understood each other. He was like a brother to me and will always be one of the best friends I have ever had. Truly. I moved away and we only slightly kept in touch - enough so that we knew what the other was doing.

Later in life, when Medium Pants was very small, I moved back home and went to work for/with Pete. We picked up right back where we had been. He became great friends with Pants. Golfing pals with stories I do not want to hear. I adore his wife - she is perfect for him. We were all friends. And so life rumbled along - I enjoyed work and had a good time while I was there and all was well in my world.

I could make this entry really really long, but I won't. In a nutshell, things transpired that were beyond either of our control and I took another job. It was a hard decision, but I felt it was best. Things were very uncomfortable from then on out. We lost touch and didn't speak for about 5 years. We ran into each other at a business function and it was weird. But not so weird that I didn't miss our friendship and maybe even regret my hasty actions.

I sent him an e-mail about a year ago letting him know how we were, a picture with all the Pants and an indication that I would be open to communication. Thankfully, he responded and from then on, we e-mailed almost every day. Catching up with each other's lives and stepping right back into the comfort level we had before. I was laughing my butt off at his jokes and things I had forgotten. It was like we used to be - sorta. We still had the safety of e-mail - no face to face and the option to delete.

This past Friday we all four attended the funeral of another dear friend. And there we were - face to face. I will admit I was anxious because I hadn't seen him since we renewed our friendship. The cautiousness of the e-mail relationship was even more apparent when I knew we would all see each other. And without the option of liquor as a confidence provider - it was scary. But as soon as we all saw each other, all the nervousness and uncertainty were gone. He was the same guy I had practically grown up with and I felt completely at ease.

He and Pants went and played golf Sunday and he stopped by our house afterwards. He had never seen Small Pants and had not seen Medium Pants since he was four except in pictures. Medium Pants is now ten for an idea of how long it had been - really long. It was absolutely wonderful. I realized how much I missed him and our friendship.

We have plans to all get together and cook out, drink beer and visit. I am excited. It is going to be great to be able to banter with him again - I have really missed that. But more importantly, I feel like I am getting part of my life back. He was a huge part of my life. You must consider we have know each other for 20 years. That's a long damn time. Sadly, I feel like I wasted some of that because of foolish pride and uncertainty. I could kick myself for doing that. I think there are still some things that might need to be said or ironed out - nothing bad, just clarifications and reassurances, but I know it will be okay.

Oddly enough, after seeing Pete this weekend and talking with him, I feel a bit younger and a bit wiser. He has reminded me of my youth and also reminded me of my shortcomings. That isn't a bad thing - I know what they are already, but now I know that I can deal with them. Maybe not in the timeframe I would like, but I can do it. Seeing him again gave me a weird strength - I think in part due to the uncertainty of what had happened between us. It was so useless to allow a misunderstanding and hurt feelings to come between us when we were so close. Now that I have acknowledged to myself how I should have handled the whole thing, I can move forward. The dissoloution of our friendship has always been hard for me to talk about and accept. I feel shame for allowing something so many people are never fortunate enough to have get cast aside.

So thank you, Pete. Thanks for being open minded, forgiving, allowing our reunion and restoring some of my youth. Now, if I can just get you to help me a little bit on the damn crow's feet, we will be back in business.

The New and Improved Bubble Boy

2006-07-05T12:03:00.000-07:00

You may recall my tales of the neighbors I call "The Labelers." They are the parents of Spazwad, whom you might remember from previous posts. We have another set of neighbors I call "The Bubble People" because they live in a bubble and are oblivious to just about everything. They let their 5 year old son watch The Exorcist. The original one with Linda Blair that I still, at my sad and old age, cannot watch without covering my eyes in some parts.

Their son is now 6. He got caught trying to dissect a toad in their back yard a few months ago. I explained to Medium Pants that I was not ok with this and he was not to be a party to hurting any animal (other than spiders and mosquitoes, of course) and that I thought it was mean. I know he will have to do it in 9th grade biology, but that one is already dead and it will be done under his teacher's instruction.

Apparently, according to Mrs. Labeler, he was finally sucessful in his mutilation endeavors just last week. Her son ratted their kid out. I asked Medium Pants about it and he knew it happened, but left when the plan became clear and told Bubble Boy that he thought it was mean. I am very proud.

Anyway, Mrs. Labeler brought the dissection to Mrs. Bubble's attention the other night as we watched fireworks. She then, being a child therapist and all, explained that animal mistreatment and mutilation was an indication of sociopathic and psychotic behavior. For example, most serial killers started out hurting and killing defenseless animals just for entertainment. I almost fell out!

Mr. & Mrs. Bubble asked me about it later, and I just stood there. I mean, how could I say that I think he's a weird kid, but I don't know if he intends to kill the family while they are sleeping. She asked me what I thought about the toad dissecting, and I said I thought it was kind of mean, but I was no therapist. I just think it is wrong to make an animal suffer, sorry. She said she would talk to Bubble Boy about it. We'll see.

Then, after a few drinks, we both agreed that the Labelers should perhaps psychoanalyze their own child before they begin on ours.

Freedom Isn't Free

2006-06-30T07:53:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know it is an old cliche', but it is very true. I am going to relax and enjoy this four day weekend complete with a crawfish boil and fireworks. But in doing so, I thought it best to make mention of something.

To our Troops: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. May God keep you safe. You are in my prayers and I hope that you can return to your families safely and soon. I have such respect and admiration for you and your bravery. People, whether you agree with the war or not, please say a prayer for the men and women protecting us and risking their lives. They need our support and our prayers and so do the loved ones waiting at home for them to return unharmed.

Have a wonderful and safe Fourth of July.

God Bless America.

Truth Be Told....

2006-06-28T07:46:00.000-07:00

Every evening, Small Pants curls up in my lap for about 15 minutes before bedtime. We snuggle and talk about the day and then I tuck him in for the night. As long as he has Mr. Fuzzles and his "Moon in my Room" book, he is happy as a clam. Some evenings, I am a bit busy, so I suggest that he snuggle with Pants instead of me. The answer is always a resounding "No, mama."

Last night, I asked him why and here is our conversation - unedited and verbatim....

Me: "Why don't you ever sit in Daddy's lap before bedtime?"

Sm P: "I don't know"

Me: "Don't you think it would be nice to try that sometimes? Daddy has a comfy lap" (yes, a snicker eminated from Pant's chair on that comment)

Sm P: "No, I don't want to."

Me: "Why not, sweetie?"

Sm P: "Because that lap poots, mama."

Well, I couldn't very well send him over there after that startling revelation, could I?

Basics for the Customer Service Industry

2006-06-27T07:49:00.000-07:00

In light of my last post, I would like to list my top 10 things I think are basic necessities for those who work in the service industry. That would include McDonald's, Lowe's, Walmart, etc. - anywhere that it is your job to either serve or wait on people.

1) Breath mints

2) "Thank you" Really people, it's not that hard to say. After all, I just contributed to your paycheck.

3) No gum chewing - AT ALL. Even if you are able to chew it without smacking, I don't want to see it flopping around in your mouth.

4) Please stop flirting with the 16 year old checker and just sack my damn groceries. Oh, and hey Einstein, bread should go somewhere near the top, ya think?

5) If I have two baskets of groceries and two small kids, yes, you might want to push the cart to my car and load them. It's part of your job.

6) If I am still sitting at the drive thru window after you shut it (without saying Thank you) chances are you have either forgotten something or screwed up my order. Don't open the window and say "Huh?" or "What?"

7) "May I help you?" See #6 also.

8) If I ask you where the rat tail files are, and you don't know, ask someone who does. Do not just send me to "plumbing" because even I know they aren't in that department.

9) Smile occasionally - I want to be in your store even less than you do. I'm not getting paid for being there.

10) And for the grand finale...... Do not comment that someone has a weird name. I will accept "That's unusual" or even "That's a pretty name" but better yet, just shut your piehole. I know, trust me, I already know.

** I reserve the right to add to this list, especially after I venture out for lunch today.

The Twilight Zone - Redefined

2006-06-26T07:48:00.000-07:00

There are a few things of which I am well-aware. Things that I know must be blatently obvious to everyone, but then perhaps I expect too much of people. I will list just three of them here:

1) No man looks good in a Speedo - It doesn't matter how hot or well-built you are.

2) Apparently, turn signals are sold as "optional equipment" on some car models.

3) I have an unusual name for a girl. And yes, I know it's a boy's name.

I deal with the lovely #3 everyday. On the phone, meeting new people, when writing a check, etc. Anytime someone needs to know my name, I get an odd look or a comment. Yeah, funny - I have never heard the "Your mama must have wanted a boy" or "You shoulda married a man with the last name of Time" jokes, really. Never. Originality is not some people's strong suit, is it?

I had to go to Walmart this weekend. I know, don't say it. I hate that freakin place too, but it takes 45 minutes to get to Target. Anyway, I didn't come here to talk about the crumbling of Western civilization. I had to go to Walmart. As I was checking out and writing my check, the pleasant girl with impeccable manners (that would be sarcasm there) asked to see my driver's license. I obliged. This woman, with hair that was so stiff and oddly styled, fake nails that were painted with designs and her one gold tooth, peered at my license. She would look at it then look at me then look at it again. She did this about three times.

She then said, in a way that can only be translated if you could hear me imitate her (but imagine my head swiveling back and forth as if it were no longer attached to my neck with anything but a coil) "You gots a weird name, you knows it?"

I nodded and said, "Yes, thank you." Then I looked at her nametag. I had to lean forward and sound it out. You will never in 40 million years guess it. It took me several attempts and I made a point to let her see me sounding it out to myself. Is the suspense killing you?

"Tylomeklia"

I'll give you a few moments to process that.......

Never one to "just let it go" I looked at her nametag then looked at her then her nametag again. I just smiled at her and said "Yes, it is an unusual name isn't it, Tylomeklia?" The man in line behind me, who had witnessed the entire sitcom just started laughing. Out loud, really loudly. Loud enough for people to turn and look.

Tylomeklia looked at him knowingly and said "She do have a weird name, don't she?"

Unfreakingbelievable.

That has never happened to me at Target, I'll have you know.

Yet Another Complaint About Sweltering Heat

2006-06-22T00:40:00.000-07:00

I am home. Thank God. Scottsdale, Arizona. June. 113 degrees. And when people say "It's a dry heat." What the hell does that mean, exactly? It means they are completely full of horseshit. The only difference between heat there and here is that my hair looked good. No frizz. But other than that? Nothing - it was hot. As hot as I imagine it is in hell. I am sure I will know soon enough.

We stayed at some fancy resort that I could never afford if I had to pay the tab. You want to know how they afforded it? Because it is the "off season" in Scottsdale. Why? Because it is so freaking hot, that's why. So very hot that when I had very very little hot water in the shower Tuesday morning, I didn't even complain about it. I just thought, hmmm. This is pleasant actually. Usually, I take the hottest showers known to man. So hot, that if Pants is feeling amorous and wants to get in the shower with me, he winces and turns up the cold water when he thinks I am not looking. I will run you out I take them so hot. So it really must say something if I found a lukewarm (at best) shower refreshing.

We had meetings, fancy dinners, open bars, meetings, activities, open bars and more dinners with open bars. Before you get all riled up about the open bar issue, rest assured, I am no idiot. While I do like a cold beer and even a tasty drink concoction occasionally, I do not drink excessively on any business trips. Get this, I will in the comfort of my home when the kids are at the sitters for the night and even when we go out if Pants will take care of me, I am nothing if not a party viking. But not with people I conduct business with or when I am representing my employer. I had a few drinks here and there, but was always in control. Never ceases to amaze me how when the crap is free, people go buck wild. Classy.

The activity we selected was a rafting trip down the Salt River. Sweet Baby Jesus, no one warned me that our guide would be the most ridiculously cute boy EVER!! He was just the cutest thing, young enough to be my son, if I started at like 18 or something. But really cute. If I had a daughter his age, I would have been scheming, seriously. The other guide was like Erkel compared to ours, so we planned that well.

I am glad to be back, though. I missed my boys. It was weird being gone from them - it's so rare that I am gone for a few days. Plus I never sleep well without Pants beside me. I am astounded to say I missed his snoring even. He doesn't snore loudly, just a little bit. Nothing I have made him go to the couch for. An occasional jab to his ribs, perhaps, but nothing more. I have been awake many nights and been soothed by the sound of him breathing that deep sleepy breath. I talk in my sleep, so I'll bet I'm not so soothing. If you want to know how I truly feel about something though? Ask me while I am asleep, because I will tell you without mincing any words.

They were all fine when I got home and the house was still pretty clean. I was shocked. They did forget to water my ferns; however. I have two gigantic ferns in urns (heh heh) on the front porch. I have cherished, nurtured and babied those bastards for months now and they look fabulous. I told them all that if my precious and beloved ferns died while in their care, there would be severe consequences. Possibly even death. Good thing Pants did it when I reminded him about it the evening I was on my way home. I don't think I would look good as a widow. Or as a convict. Either way, they survived - meaning my ferns and my family. Seriously, someone would have been maimed if they had not made it. I love those damn ferns.

Oh and a word to the wise....When you are trying to be all cool with some girl you meet at a business meeting, don't be a dumbass. Some poor schmuck tried to talk baseball with me. Looking at the nerd, you knew he had never played past t-ball. Consider this, when you tell me that Wow! You love the Red Sox too!!!! For forever, since you were a kid! How crazy is that?!?! you might want to atleast act like you know something about them. I have been a fan since I was little. I remember watching them play with my dad in elementary school. I despise Bandwagon Fans. So, if you say that you are a big longtime fan, it would be in your best interest not to stare at me so blankly when upon asking me who my favorite Bosox players are, I respond Ted Williams, Jim Rice and Carl Yastremski. If you have never heard of the Splendid Splinter, you, my friend, are no baseball fan. You don't have to like him, but you should know who he is.

I plan to begin a new concept in my entries. I will not mention unbearable, life threatening heat, suffocating humidity or baseball for the rest of the summer. I swear. It is going to be difficult, but I am willing to try. For you.

An Argument for Genetics

2006-06-16T07:50:00.000-07:00

My two boys are pretty smart. Medium Pants was awarded the "Science Student of the Year" award this year for the highest science GPA in 4th grade. He was also on the president's honor roll. He gets all that science stuff from his father, not me. Small Pants can count, rattle off the Red Sox infield and tell you who wore #9, but he is all about sports. I am pretty sure where he gets that too.

Medium Pants wants to be either a judge or a vet when he grows up. Both excellent choices of which he is quite capable of doing well. Small Pants wants to be David Ortiz. Big Papi. I laugh every time he says it because he doesn't realize that he will never be able to be a black man. Michael Jackson became a white guy, but I don't think we could afford to support Small Pant's metomorphosis, so he's out of luck.

I think Medium Pants will do well in school. He is very smart and enjoys learning - wants to know more. Unlike his father and I, who skated through and kept our grades up enough just to play ball. I was an A & B student, but never made an effort. I am not a genius, I was just gifted with a great memory. It has since lost most of it's power - something about brain cells being killed or something. I don't know. Small Pants is just going to want to play sports. That is fine by me, but I will emphasize the importance of applying yourself to your schoolwork.

I worry about them both because how can you not in today's world. And I worry I am not doing everything I should for them. I know that no parent is perfect, but I try. Sometimes I wonder what they will remember as adults about how we were as parents. I hope they have good memories. I know they will always know that we love them.

I am going out of town for a few days on business, so no entries. Sorry, I should have put more effort into this one, I guess. I am not very excited about it - all my responsibilities are here and while a few days away would seem nice, I know I will miss all my Pants. They will be fine, I know. Their daddy will take good care of them. I will have to clean the house again when I get home, I'll bet. See? Yet another thing to look forward too.

I just keep praying that Small Pants will not be made fun of when he shows up in something that TOTALLY does not match. Medium Pants can dress himself, thank goodness. I just hope Pants makes sure they take baths. Swimming in the pool does not count as a bath, dear. There was no soap involved, remember?

So I'll be back later next week and after I clean my house and scrub my poor chlorined kids, I'll tell you about the trip. Or atleast try and write a slightly entertaining entry, since this one sucks.

What Goes Around Comes Around

2006-06-13T07:58:00.000-07:00

We went to the zoo last week. It was lovely. Medium Pants loved the sea lion show and Small Pants loved the polar bear exhibit. The animals cooperated and put on a show. We even got to see the enormous boa constrictor eat a rabbit - sick, I know. Why do monkeys have such ugly butts? I have always wondered that.

As we were leaving the zoo, after a pleasant day of no whining, arguing, fits or name calling (unbelieveable, really) we headed toward the front gates. They have a beautiful fountain and "river walk" thing with small waterfalls complete with bridges and stepping stones. Well, who can resist the call of the stepping stone? Medium Pants crossed the water a few times on the stones as nimble as a gazelle. Impressed, I asked Small Pants if he wanted to cross on them. He said yes, but wanted me to do it with him. Pants commented a few times (he states it was four to be exact) that he didn't think it was a very good idea.

"There aren't any signs saying not to. And look, everyone else is doing it." I replied. Now, let me stop for a moment to acknowledge the parental error of my - everybody else is doing it - comment. I know, OK? Shut it. And no, I wouldn't jump off a bridge if everyone else did.

So off we go. Holding hands, I step on the first stone and then the second. Small Pants steps on the first and just keeps on coming. I get to the third one and, oops, it's a little wobbly. Small Pants just keeps on coming. I think that I can just step into the water, regain my balance and continue. I just have on flip flops, so it wouldn't hurt my shoes. I step back into the water.... and my foot just keeps going down and down and down even further. It appears the zoo engineers thought that a drainage hole would be perfect at the base of the stepping stones. So down my foot goes until I finally hit bottom. The water is up to my knee and I totally lose the rest of my balance.

I end up sitting in the waterfall, with the water up to my ribs, pulling my poor child in with me. I do manage to hold him up out of the deepest part of the water and grab my flip flop as it floats downstream. Pants thought I had broken my ankle and sweet Medium Pants had this odd look on his face. He really really wanted to laugh, but was unsure if he was allowed to. Well, what can you do? You are sitting in the center of the entrance to the zoo, people are coming in and out - entire families - seeing you sitting in the middle of this water display.

I was laughing my ass off. I mean, how funny could that have possibly looked? I would have laughed if it had happened to someone else. I couldn't stop laughing and Small Pants was just looking at me. He was angry because "Mama pulled me in the water and now I am all wet, Daddy!" Poor lad was a touch indignant, plus he had on nylon soccer shorts, so he proceeded to walk like he had taken a humongous poop in his pants - his legs were spread apart and his arms outstretched. As soon as I started laughing, so did Pants and Medium Pants. Small Pants? Not so much.

Pants pulled my big ass out of the water and asked if I was ok. I had a big scratch on the back of my leg and my foot was burning. I took off my shoe and my entire foot was covered with blood - it was dripping onto the ground. Scary at first, but after I rinsed it off, I just ripped a big chunk out of the bottom of my big toe. I am nothing if not graceful, people!

Anyway, as soon as it was ascertained that I would survive, we went to the car. Small Pants had to ride home in just his Spiderman underwear because his clothes were soaked. He wouldn't let Daddy turn on the air conditioner because it was too cold. He and I were perfectly comfortable after our swim. The other two were sweating profusely. It's hot here, remember? But we finally got home, and when we did Pants set about telling everyone he knew about how damn funny it was and occasionally imitating my whole backward armwaving fall. He would not stop. The mileage he thought he was going to get from this! After all he did tell me (4 times, remember?) not to do it.

After ridiculing me for entirely too long, he worked in the yard a little bit, cleaning up shrubs around the trees and getting some brush cleared. Every so often, he would stop to get a cold drink and laugh at me some more. Even going so far occasionally to demonstrate how my comic sideshow looked from his angle. For my benefit, how kind.

He gets up the next morning and appears to have a lovely outbreak of poison ivy all across his forehead and arms. As he is standing there looking in the mirror at it and I am standing next to him at my sink putting on makeup, he says:

"What the hell is that?"

My response?

"Karma, baby."

Why I Like Men

2006-06-12T07:50:00.000-07:00

I prefer the company, usually, of men to that of women. Men are more laid back, less critical and less bitchy (unless they are sick). Women, for the most part - not all of them, are way too busy worrying about what the other women think and being jealous of them. Silly and a complete waste of time.

Now, I get along well with women who are comfortable in their skin, who know who they are and are not concerned about what anyone thinks. It annoys me to no end when you see a group of women at lunch, for example, and a pretty woman walks by. The group immediately begins to tear apart her clothes, her hair, her make-up, etc. It is ridiculous and shows nothing but their insecurities. How hard is it to simply acknowledge that there will always be someone prettier, thinner, smarter and richer than you - big hairy deal. I would love to be thinner and richer - who wouldn't - but I am not going to make rude comments about some thinner and wealthier girl I might see at some restaurant that I don't even know! What a waste of time - who has the energy for that much negativity?

Given my penchant for sarcasm, I know that is difficult for some of you to grasp. I; however, rarely waste my gift of sarcasm on people I don't know - they can't appreciate it. I prefer to blast my loved ones and friends with it occasionally, just to keep them in line.

Now, back to why I like men. I can sit and drink a cold beer and talk sports with men. They understand the inner drive to compete and even play hurt. They get it. I have a friend, bless her heart, she lives in a bubble. The boys had "Wear your favorite college team" shirt to school one day. She called "Are the Cleveland Browns a college team?" Now her son is playing t-ball - she calls the innings "quarters." I have so very much to teach her.

I like men bacause they don't hold grudges - they don't get pissy. I like men who don't put up with any bullshit. I like men who wear the pants in the family (like my dear Pants does). I like men that run the show, protect their wives and children and will tell someone to watch their mouth when their kids are with them. I like men who are not afraid of showing a little weakness here and there and I like men who can cry without being ashamed. If you can watch Ole Yeller or The Lou Gehrig Story with a guy and he doesn't cry - he has no soul.

I guess because I earned the moniker of being a tomboy at a very young age, I was always accepted by the guys. I was the cool chick. I wasn't trying to play dumb and flirt with them (atleast they didn't know I was flirting) - I was their friend. While sometimes in high school that made for boring Friday nights, I could never be the ditzy cutesy type. I would much rather just sit and discuss when and if Ralph Sampson was ever going to bring the NCAA Champ title home to UVA. FYI - nope, he never did. Choked, bigtime.

I think that with all my casual friendships and conversations with men, it allowed me to see how they work much more clearly. They are pretty simple, really. They like to be appreciated. They can't read our minds - if you want something from your spouse, you have to specifically ask for it. Leave the ad on the table with a big circle around what it is you want. Hints do not work.

Men are just easier to be around - there is no agenda, no shuffling for power and no sizing up the "competition." I absolutely love it when Pants has a game and I go to watch him play. I adore all his teammates - they are all great guys who would do anything for you. I like to watch him in his element and the fact that he is a great ball player doesn't hurt either. Best first baseman in the city - I swear. Men are easy to be around - get them a cold beer, talk about their interests, throw in a good joke and relax.

Maybe that's the whole thing - I can relax around men. I don't feel like I am being critiqued and compared. Plus, I can cuss and even burp around some of them - they do not care. There is totally something positive about being one of the guys. You can just be yourself. I guess it could be a drawback if Pants wasn't so secure in our relationship. He is not threatened by the fact that I get along well with men. He knows that I think the sun rose and set in him - I am not going anywhere. Pants is the only one for me without a doubt and he knows that I can joke with his friends and that is all it is.

God knew what he was doing - despite my protests - when he gave me two sons. I wouldn't have known what to do with a girl - other than teach her how to play ball.

Still Just As Sweet

2006-06-09T07:56:00.000-07:00

I am fortunate to have been able to conceive and bear two beautiful and healthy children. I suppose as a young girl, you think about your future husband and children - planning your wedding and home in your head for years before you ever even meet the man you marry. During all this childish dreaming and planning (most of which is pure nonsense anyway) it is just taken for granted that you will have babies - that everything will function as it is supposed to and no wrenches will be thrown into the works and it will all be easy as pie.

I have several friends who are unable to have children. When we all found this out in our early to mid-twenties, many evenings were filled with us girls all sitting around discussing at length the situation. Such discussions usually involved alcohol, tears, more alcohol, more tears and some laughter. I felt so terribly sorry for my friends that they could NEVER have babies - I mean, how could God be so cruel? These were the most loving and nurturing girls I knew. They would be the best moms in the world. They were the ones who held our girlie group together, remembered birthdays, planned parties and were always thinking of how to make everyone feel better. Damn - they were so nice, sometimes we tried to pull them over to the dark side. A snide remark would be made and you would see a faint glimmer of a smile before the "That's not nice" was said. We evil ones would just shake our heads in disgust and say "Crap, I thought we had her in our clutches."

None of that last "dark side" part is true, really, but they were and still are lovely women with huge hearts. And so it always struck me as ridiculously unfair - these girls, who were the first to cuddle all the new babies and soothe the new moms of the group's nerves, would never hold one of their very own. They were naturals - the kind you see and wish you could be. Poised and calm, even as Little Susie barfed all down the front of their brand spankin' new Ann Taylor sweater, they smiled and laughed and said " I bet you feel better now, don't you, sweetheart?" They would mention adoption and I always though to myself "Yeah, but it won't really be your baby...." And I would wonder how you could bond with a baby that you didn't have a part in making. I mean, babies are cute and you might love one, but for 18 years? When it's not even yours? I couldn't fathom it.

As time wore on I softened on that stance some. I still couldn't understand how you could truly bond with one, especially after having my first. The whole pregnancy is a bonding experience and the first time you feel that little booger kick? Wow, it's a combination of awe, fear and inexplicable love. Amazing. I could see maybe how you would grow to love them and become protective of them - I mean, if this is your only shot at it, sure. I guess.

And then it happened, our dear friend Melissa and her equally dear husband Ben found out they were getting a baby girl. They hadn't really told us they were trying to adopt because apparently it is a lengthy process with no absolutes. And as I said, she is ridiculously sweet and didn't want to get everyone else's hopes up. We had a big party for them and a new baby shower. It was so much fun - although all of us who had given birth were a little pissed. There, opening presents, sat Melissa in her size 4 jeans - looking agonizingly perfect - where we had all sat months before in our lovely size efuckingnormous maternity clothes.

We had a wonderful time and she racked up some really great shit. C'mon, you know that's what it's all about - quit being so pious. Anyway - I was still skeptical about the whole bonding/not really yours issue. Hoping for the best but just not knowing. Until the day Audra came home from the hospital.

The way Melissa cradled that precious baby with the tears streaming down her face and her smile lighting up the room made us all cry. Up from the depths of the baby blanket came a tiny hand reaching out for Melissa's face. Fingers spread wide like she wanted to hold all of Melissa's beautiful face in her one hand. She kissed that tiny hand and the look in her eyes told me that I had been wrong all along. So very wrong, and so glad that I had been.

I saw in that one simple moment between a mother and her child that that baby was hers and Ben's and no one else's. They loved this gift with the same depth that I loved mine. It made no difference in how the babies got into our arms, just that they made it there safely. This little baby and it's smell were still just as sweet. Just as perfect. Just as you had always dreamed.

And we all drank a toast to the beautiful Audra - who had come to prove me wrong and to complete a family.

Searching For A Cure.......

2006-06-08T07:52:00.000-07:00

They say in the old Eddie Cochran hit "Summertime Blues" that there ain't no cure for them. I beg to differ. I believe that a seat right on the beach and a big ass marguerita usually cures those blues, even if said cure is temporary. But alas, we are unable to make it to the beach this summer as a family. I get to go briefly on a business trip, but I would rather go with Pants and the two smaller size pants.

Summer is always a time of mixed emotion at our house. While I love the excitement of summer vacation, the weather and the boys excitement at moving up a grade, I also dread summertime. Camps and activities overflow every day almost to the point of being too much. Also, we have issues with heat and attitudes.

Medium Pants alternates between camp and my mom's so that he doesn't get bored with either too quickly. The camp he goes to is at his school and the try to schedule field trips and special activities, so he tries to go there on those days, but the days where they are just hanging out at the gym, he tries to spend the day at his grandmother's for something a little different.

Small Pants is in pre-school and during the summer the schedule is fun, fun, fun!!! Every day is something different - bubble day, water day, fun day with moon bounces and water slides, trips to the park, visits from the fire department (those are planned and not due to smoke or an alarm being sounded) and so on. So usually, I am halfway to work and struck with "Oh God, did I send his bubbles with him? Does he have his Spongebob swimtrunks and a towel?" It can be stressful sometimes because our house is a little nutty in the morning with us all running around like chickens trying to make sure we have everything we need for the day.

But here is the real reason I am no fan of summer. It's too damn hot. The humidity here is ungodly and you cannot escape it. The heat index is usually a good 10 degrees higher than the actual temperature and that is due to the humidity. You step outside and it is like a old stale sheet has been thrown in boiling rancid water for 15 minutes then thrown on your body as soon as you leave the air conditioned safety of your home. So not only are you hot and wet, but you are smelly too.

And poor Pants usually has to work out in this crap every day. In jeans. Welding. Which involves producing even more heat. And wearing long sleeves. I'll let that sink in for a second...... Welding. Outside. In 100 degree weather. In jeans.

So, as you can imagine, he is a ridiculously pleasant person when he arrives home from work. Yes, that was sarcasm. We suffer through this every summer. EVERY summer. We will not even address the odor issue, because, dear Lord, bless his heart, he can't help that. You would smell bad too if you were out all day in that heat. Welding. In jeans. Outside. Did I mention that before? Anyway, he comes home and he is really, really crabby. He is hot and tired and totally drained. All he wants to do is change clothes, because his are usually still soaked, and sit in the a/c and perhaps drink a nice cold cold beer. And then just sit in the a/c for a while longer.

OK, I get this. I know how shitty it must be to work out in the heat the whole day - I could not do it. There is no way I could - I would be crying like a sissy after just an hour or probably less. So it is not that I do not have sympathy for him because I do. I respect my husband not just for what a good & honest man he is but for how hard he works every day. You could never call him a slacker - unless you were talking about picking up dirty socks, but again, I am getting off topic.

But picture my afternoon - early evening. I pick up both boys from their respective zoos. My mind is already racing about what I need to prepare for them for whatever field trip/activity they have the next day. They are begging on the ride home to go swimming/go to Tyler, Conner, Nicholas, Zach or Colby's house/have one of them come to our house/watch Power Rangers/have a coke/have some m&m's/play baseball/play kickball/play video games/ride bikes/ride scooters/etc.

So, as soon as I get them home, I have to change clothes and go outside with them to play. Which is fine - I am not complaining about playing with my kids. I actually enjoy being out there with them, except for the damned heat. And I know that winter will be here soon enough and they will get sick of staying inside. Pants is inside cooling off still and looks miserable and a bit pale. I try to get the kids out of his way so he can just relax for a bit. After a little while he comes out, mainly because I think he feels obligated to do so.

Here's the thing. He is short-tempered with the boys and me and a gem to everyone else. And I know it is because the sun has sapped every ounce of energy he had. He gets onto the boys for the slightest infraction and is short with me, probably because I am sticking up for them, but is cheerful and pleasant with the neighbors. I guess I am a little bit more patient with them because I know they have just been hyped up all day and they are still running on that excitement. Besides, it's summer - who can forget how you felt when you were in elementary school and you finally understood what "summer vacation" meant? So they are running around the yard yelling and sweating (and you know how sweaty little boys smell), I am standing there watching and sweating and Pants is standing there yelling and sweating.

We make a lovely picture, I am certain - me, the two stinky polecats and Grumplestiltskin.

Maybe our summers would go more smoothly if he just stayed in the a/c. And I don't mean that in a bitchy way. I can handle the kids outside and I am not working in the heat all day. If it will put you in a better mood, stay inside and cool off. Suits me just fine. We'll be in later. If it will make you less of a grump I am all for it!

I must state that Pants is not usually a grumpy person and always leaves his work issues at work. It is truly the heat and being so drained that makes his such a crab. This always happens every summer. It is exhausting for him and I try to be sympathetic. It's hard sometimes though, when he can be nice to everyone else but no so much to us. I guess he expects us to be more understanding and maybe we should be. Now I feel guily for complaining because this is the only time Pants is a crab. Oh, and when he is sick he's a big turd too.

I told him if we moved to Maine, our summers would be nicer. He just looked at me. So I guess we are staying here. Mr. & Mrs. Grumplestiltskin.

It's All About Reading Comprehension, Isn't It?

2006-06-02T07:29:00.000-07:00

Even though it has been a short week, what with the holiday, it seems like it has taken an eternity for Friday to finally get here! I was so busy last weekend - a ball tournament, painted our bathroom (looks great, thanks!), cookout and the whole neighbor issue that it just flew by.

On the neighbor issue, things seem to be going well. They are spending more time with him and I think that is really all he wanted. He seems much happier and calmer and we have gotten more one on one time with our boys, so pluses all around. Speaking of pluses......

One of the pluses to having a blog - or blob - is that it can be quite cathartic. You can get things out and in the open that might otherwise be difficult to say. Whether about my father's death, my friend's cancer or this situation with my friend/neighbor. I know we are not the first people in a subdivision to encounter this, so I know we will reach a resolution. It was troubling; however, because no one wants to struggle with having to say something that they know will hurt someone's feelings, no matter how gently or nicely they do it.

One of the minuses to having one - people tend to read just the top entry or just parts of it and then twist it. Again, I got several e-mails saying I was picking on this kid or that I should confront his mother and discuss it with her. OK, no, I was not picking on him, and if you had read the PREVIOUS entry, it was all about my conversation with his mother. And yes, he has been officially diagnosed with ADHD by a real Dr./Therapist - his mother told me so. I was very polite to her and explained that I adored her son, but felt that he was always at my house - every afternoon until being sent home at my children's dinnertime and all weekend long. His parents never come check on him or look out to make sure he is ok. All I asked for was the occasional evening with my kids in my yard alone.

If you e-mailer's who are critiquing my blog and ridiculing it's contents would like to read EVERY entry in order, you would see that I continually point out that I am not nor have ever claimed to be a perfect parent. My boys have their issues just like every child. Here they are in case you have missed them:

Medium Pants - 1) Quite possibly the bossiest child on Earth. His Challenge teacher (Gene Wilder for those of you who are selective in your reading) calls it "leadership abilities." Yeah, I call it "Things you might get spanked for." 2) Sometimes gets frustrated with stupidity and gets snotty. For the record, I do not know where he gets this.

Small Pants - 1) Still at the stage where farting in public is thought to be uproariously funny. 2) Announced loudly at the Mexican restaurant the other night that he was no longer to be called Spiderman. He was now to be referred to only as "Burper Boy" followed by a burp that made even me proud.

So see, I do realize that we are all different and have different opinions. Maybe not all adults find earsplitting belches humorous. Ok, that's fine. We can still coexist here.

My only request - read the ENTIRE entry and if it references the one directly preceeding it, READ THAT ONE TOO before firing off an e-mail to me about what a bitch, horrible neighbor, ball-less idiot, drug pushing maniac, princess or queen of perfection (yeah, I laughed my ass off at that one too) I am.

C'mon....Let Me Explain!

2006-06-01T00:31:00.000-07:00

I have received several, ok, quite a few, e-mails from "concerned readers" (whatever!) who thought that my last post was an attack on kids with ADHD or spastic behavior, most directly the one who lives two doors down, affectionately called Spazwad.

I assure you, it was not. I do not know all the ins and out of diagnosing ADHD and I am no Tom Cruise - some issues may be better served with medications. I feel, and I may be incorrect here, admittedly, that this child would be better served with some sort of medication. He is unable to exhibit self control and it is affecting not only his education, but his relationships with his peers.

I am certainly not going to win any parent of the year awards. Never claimed that I would. I do; however, feel that there is not one single child on this Earth that would NOT benefit from more positive attention from his parents. You can't just open the door and tell your 6 year old to go play and expect him to stimulate himself all day every day. You are just setting yourself up for trouble and I believe that if that is the way you choose to parent, you cannot be surprised when the knock at your door one afternoon is the police.

All the child wants is someone to play with, some attention and to have some fun. I never said I didn't want him to never set foot in my yard again. I would just like to have some time to devote my attention entirely to MY children and I think they as parents should do the same.

If you think that is unreasonable, you can kiss my ass.

I'm betting I'll be seeing you on the news years from now. Through a stream of tears with police cars in the background, you will be saying "But he was always such a good boy........."

Suburban Snafu

2006-05-30T07:47:00.000-07:00

We have lived in our current neighborhood for two years this coming August. It is a lovely neighborhood with large acre lots, trees, manicured lawns, pools (in some lucky bastard's yards) and laughing children. I love our house and we love our neighbors. Sometimes.

When we first moved in, we were the only three houses built. We live up on the hill and overlook the rest of our section of the subdivision, thus our air of superiority. Imagine our excitement when we discovered that they had each had sons who were only a tad younger than Medium Pants! He hadn't had any playmates in our old neighborhood, so we were thrilled.

The limitless possibilities...playdates, ball playing, tag, bug catching, sleepovers! Wow, it just boggled the mind. The first year was an effortless plethora of fun and sun. They played together fairly well, with only the occasional argument. These were quickly solved and it was back to playing and more fun. Idyllic, no?

This summer? Ain't so freakin' sweet. Basically, I am babysitting one of the kids almost every weekday from 5 pm until I send him home. They don't look out of the window to check on him at all. I know this because you cannot see our yard from their window. They would have to physically step outside to check on him and that must be just too hard. On the weekends, either I or the other neighbors have him pretty much all day until we send him home. We did a little experiment one Friday evening and we had him from 5:00 pm until his dad came over to visit and I pushed the kid out the door with him at 8:45pm - they ate dinner without him. I KNOW!! Can you imagine? Then they like to complain that he is being picked on and called names all the time. Well, I am out there most of the time and it doesn't happen on my watch, so.....

If Small Pants wants to play outside, one of us has to be out there with him, he is only 3 and is too young to just run the neighborhood. So, since they are aware of this, they send their's out and he immediately appears in my yard and there he is until I send him home. He asks for juice, lunch, the bathroom, etc. Bear in mind he lives two doors down. Not too far to walk if you are starving, parched or have to poop. Also, you must understand to whom this child belongs. He is the kid of the "Labelers" - read the old entry about the couple having problems for a refresher. He has ADHD in the worst way, and is not on any meds, because they don't like the way they effect him - I say pick the lesser of two evils, please. He can't focus on anything, has no self control and is ridiculously loud. And I mean LOUD. And he whines. Alot. But other than that he is a sweet natured child - he just has more energy that any superhero and simply has no idea how to channel it. And he is in my yard all the time. All the time.

So, Pants and I have been trying to figure out a polite way to say this, and could not find one. Needless to say, things have been weird between his mother and I because we were once very very close and this has made me feel used and irritated. And the added stress of not knowing how to address it has been a pisser too. She helped with that this weekend when she came over and asked why things were strange lately between us.

After trying to play dumb for a little bit I simply said there was no easy way to sugar coat the situation and I felt like I was babysitting her kid for her the majority of the time. She said she was busy with the baby, who at 9 months old, can come out of the house, can't he? And I commented that there were two parents in that household and all I was asking for was some help. I reminded her that we didn't have all the name calling and picking on "issues" last summer when she was out watching them with me, and perhaps if either he or she could come and sit out there some of the time, then maybe these "issues" would be resolved. Let's face it, he can't breastfeed, so what the hell is he doing in there? It's not cleaning, let me assure you.

So, she cried, and I apologized for having to say it and assured her that we could reach a compromise and all would be fine. I apparently spoke way too soon. She called me later and said she was sorry for crying and said she spoke to her husband............

She told him she had talked to me and sugarcoated what I had said, telling him we were asking for a little more help and wanting someone to be outside more. She said her hands were tied with the baby, so it would have to be him. He said, get this, you are gonna die," Well, they're out of luck, I'm not gonna be out any more than I already am." (Which is NEVER, oh, unless he is washing his meticulously clean car - anal retintive freak) I almost stroked out and said "Oh, Really" in my most sarcastic tone. I told her we would have to reach some kind of compromise for her child's sake, because I would not send him home everyday, but by the same token, I was going to spend some time with my children alone in my yard. And that is how we left it.

You should have seen the look on Pants' face when I quoted El Prickola. He almost had a high speed come-apart. He wasn't so angry that El Prickola just blew me off, it was that he is so unconcerned about his own child. He cannot even get up off his lazy ass and turn off Battlestar Galactica or internet porn - take your pick - and go outside and play with his son. That is so very sad to me. We are not perfect parents by any means, but we do realize that they will remember playing ball with us in the yard years from now. They will not remember how clean we kept our car.

I tried to be as nice as possible. I didn't say, keep your shit in your yard. I just asked for some additional parental supervision. They just send him out for hours at a time and then want to complain when they don't like the calls the ref makes (yes, it's always a sports analogy) and this ref is tired of doing it for free. She quits.

Turn Away Now

2006-05-24T07:55:00.000-07:00

You know what day it is, so if you do not like American Idol (and that is criminal) go ahead and come back tomorrow. I'll see you then. Enjoy your day.

I'll keep it short and sweet - I do not like Elton John. I like only one song of his and NO! It is not that Candle in the Wind crap. It is the wonderful Levon. And Taylor did it oh so proud last night. Again.

Katherine is a lovely girl with a beautiful voice. And you should all be well aware by now of my boob envy. I also have a bit of hair envy, but I will not talk about all that today. But I'm just not feeling it the way I do when Taylor sings.

Taylor should totally win - he owned the stage on every song. He sings the kind of music I love and my opinion is the only one that matters.

If he does not win, I will truly believe that American Idol is completely fixed and I will never watch it again. And that, my friends, is total bullshit.

My A to Z's

2006-05-23T07:41:00.000-07:00

A to Z about me - stolen, er, borrowed from some blog pals. It's an interesting way to find out more about each other. I won't call it a meme, because people hate those things!

Accent: None, really. Although after several drinks, the Southerner in me does make an appearance.

Booze: Frozen Margueritas, Coors Lite (bottle only) & Zima XXX - I know, I am hanging my head in shame

Chore I hate: Matching socks - for the love of God, why do we own so freaking many white socks?

Dogs or Cats: Dogs although we have been known to own a cat before.

Essential electronics: MP3

Favourite cologne: Cashmere Mist

Gold or Silver: Silver, White gold or Platinum

Home: TN

Insomnia: Occasionally

Job title: Underwriter, wife, mom, and apparently maid.

Kids: Two sons

Living arrangements: Husband and two sons

Most admirable traits: Can sarcasm be considered an admirable trait? No? Ok, then.... I don't bullshit - what you see is what you get because I have no agenda.

Not going to cop to: ratting anyone out

Overnight hospital stays: two babies and a week for a kidney infection that was godawful - my temp was 106.5. No, that was not a typo.

Phobias: Spiders and losing anyone that I love.

Quote: "What's the matter, boy? Is Timmy in the well?" Best used when someone is confused or stuttering.

Religion: Episcopalian - of the Anglican sect.

Siblings: One brother and one sister

Time I wake up: Around 5:10 - ouch, it hurts to see it in print.

Unusual talent or skill: heh heh. Ancient chinese secret.

Vegetable I love: Fresh purple hull peas. Oh and steamed asparagus with butter and garlic sauce.

Worst habit: profanity - What? You say you hadn't noticed?

X-rays: Arms, legs, knees, ankles, shoulders, wrists & jaw

Yummy foods I make: Ridiculously good lasagne and award winning cheesecake from scratch

Zodiac sign: Virgo - yeah, I think that's funny too.

They Don't Come With Instruction Manuals, People!

2006-05-22T07:55:00.000-07:00

Pants: "Son, you weren't raised that way."

Medium Pants: "But Daddy, I must have been, because I acted that way."

That, my friends, was the most insecure and uncertain moment I have ever had as a parent. Do I send him to his room or praise his wit? I did neither - I left the room because I was dangerously close to snorting cold tea out my nose. I figured Pants could handle it.

It has never been discussed again, so I think he may have just let it slide.

Jackasses and the people who loved them

2006-05-19T11:31:00.000-07:00

I think every person has one of THOSE people in their past.

You know what I am talking about - one of those all-consuming relationships that goes way too sour and you stay way too long. Some get much uglier at the end than others and some are much uglier throughout the entire drama than they should ever have been allowed to become.

I had one of those. We will call him Crazy Pat. Because his name was Pat and he was crazy. I was talking with a friend today about her ex and nodding in agreement when she was saying what an asshole he is and the conversation turned to my days many many years ago with... Crazy Pat. Damn - I wish I could put in some sound effects here.

We laughed, because those days were so bad and so fraught with nervousness and drama that you can't do anything but laugh about it now. I was in my early twenties and really apparently stupid. People who know me now that didn't know me then cannot believe I put up with his shit for so long. His shit included cheating on me as often as he could, keeping me from all my friends, smacking me around, threatening my life and finally ended with him being arrested no less than seven (yes! 7) times for stalking me.

It would be so very easy to blame him for it all - but I stayed and put up with it for 2 and 1/2 years - so I am equally as guilty for the crap. I should have left like I had been shot out of a cannon when it all first began - namely the very first time he hit me, but I didn't. So I have to hold myself accountable for what happened thereafter.

My relationship with him was very mild compared to some of the stories you hear. It began with him cutting me off from all my friends, followed by the incessant cheating, then came the self doubt and finally the abuse. Word to the wise - If he says ALL the girls he works with are lesbians.... they aren't. And there is a very good chance he is banging several of them. Just to let you know.

If you have never been in one of these relationships, lucky girl, you will never understand how hard it is to leave and how hard it is to talk about it. I was so consumed with shame that I was allowing myself to be treated like this that I did not tell a soul. I said the bruises and marks were always a result of playing ball. Since I do play ball - ALOT - people believed that at first, but when my nose got broken twice in one summer, I started getting funny looks. I finally got my fill and the strength to go.

I decided that even if he did kill me like he had threated so very many times, hell, that could not possibly be any worse that how I was living right then. I was sick to my stomach all the time, my hair would fall out in small clumps and I lost so much weight I would bruise my hip bones when diving for saves in volleyball. While I might like to have that metabolism right now, ahem, I don't want the rest of it. So I left - and it was hard, but things that are worth doing always are.

So my point is, the crap in life truly does make you stronger and a better person. I would not be at all who I am now if I had not gone through that. I have more sympathy for people in crappy relationships because I know how hard it is to make the choice to leave. But by the same token, I do not put up with nonsense - I don't have to. I think that is part of the reason Pants and I are so strong - I know what I will and will not accept. I also don't sweat the small stuff. Yes, he leaves his socks under the ottoman sometimes and it really pisses me off, but it could be so much worse. He could be doing things that are ridiculously more destructive to me, us and our marriage. So I don't sweat it. Too much. Really.

But I draw the line at flushing the toilet before you are finished peeing. For the love of God - Will you stop that! I am warning you - one more time - I catch you doing it again and your shit will be on the curb.

Things My Husband Needs To Know.........

2006-05-17T07:45:00.000-07:00

1) A smack on my ass while I am unloading the dishwasher doesn't count as either foreplay OR affection.

2) A High-Five after sex does NOT constitute snuggling.

3) While it is usually acceptable to fart while in the bathroom, it is NOT acceptable to do so while I am standing at the sink next to you brushing my teeth.

4) And finally.....Yes, your feet really do stink.

I am sure there will be more added to this list later.

And as an aside, I am going to refrain from discussing American Idol today simply because of the caustic criticism I received from a certain someone who shall remain nameless who said I took the show far too seriously. Of course, that person also knows they can kiss my ass. Seriously. They can. You know who you are, don't you?

go taylor. go taylor. go taylor. go taylor. go taylor. go taylor.

The Sun and Gravitational Pull

2006-05-16T12:21:00.000-07:00

I guess with my last post, I remain a little melancholy.

Also, with the anniversary of my father's death looming in the offing, it's easy for me to stay in a blue state of mind. The current situation with my friend makes it all the more evident that every moment of every day cannot be taken for granted. It is hard to remember that every second of the day, particularly at times like when Small Pants is standing in the kitchen screaming at the top of his lungs that he wants the BIG marshmallows, not the WIDDLE ones.

My father and I were very close. Before you get the whole "spoiled Daddy's girl" idea - it was not like that. My daddy was hard on me - he expected a lot from me and I would rather have died than to have disappointed him. He held me accountable for my mistakes and was very much a "you made your bed" kind of man. I never for a single second doubted that he loved me with all his heart and would have given his life for me.

We were spoiled from the aspect that we did attend private schools and went to lofty liberal arts colleges (sniff, sniff), but we, unlike some of our classmates, did not drive BMW's to school. In fact, I didn't have a car. My brother had one because he worked but I assure you, a Delta 88 was not quite the stylish ride he wished he had. I didn't work - I was far too busy playing ball - so I was sans automobile. We didn't get everything we wanted and we had to work for what we did get, but our lives were good and I would not change a thing about my childhood.

My daddy was a Superhero - ridiculously strong, incredibly smart, a great ballplayer, handsome and funny. There are so many similarities between him and Pants that it sometimes creeps me way out. Yeah, Go and have your fun with that, Freud. He played ball with me - he came to my games and encouraged me. He never ever said "You should do this or you should do that..." only "Good game." Even when I know I should have or could have played better.

I have so many memories that flood my mind for no reason - just small ones. Me sitting on the sink at about age 3 watching him shave. Barefoot at 5 in the hot sun picking blackberries and eating way more than I was putting in my bucket. I remember him just laughing at me and saying there wouldn't be enough for cobbler if I didn't stop. He always came up with ridiculous words for Scrabble. I remember the way he smelled on Sunday mornings in his suit and tie. I remember thinking how handsome he would look when the time would come to walk me down the aisle when I got married. Unfortunately, my brother had to take care of that for him because he passed away suddenly when I was 23.

I don't remember much about that entire week. It still is a fog. So many years later. I recall being overly concerned about stupid things - What was I going to wear? Can they bury him in the tie I gave him for Father's Day? Hey, look who came to the visitation! Crap that so did not matter. One thing that is crystal clear is how fractured and displaced my family became after he was gone. We splintered into so many different directions and it was so uncomfortable to be around each other that it was just easier not to be.

It wasn't until many years later, after we had all reckoned ourselves in our own ways with the loss and regrouped, that our reaction to his death was explained to me in a way that it all made sense. Every family has someone who plays the part of the Sun. They are the center of the family - the source of strength. Everyone else plays the part of the planets - who rotate on the axis around the Sun - held in their place by the gravitational pull. The Sun allows them to spin on their own little cycles, but keeps them on a straight and steady path. A course that is sure and certain and is guided by the Sun's strength. When the pull of the Sun is no longer, the planets have nothing locking them together - the cycle and rotation system is shattered and they spin about madly. Trying to retain some semblance of the course they used to have engrained in their mind, but without the steady hand guiding them, they find themselves wildly out of control.

This was where we stood a few months after my father's death. After the cloud of shock lifted and we had to go back to our lives. This is still where I feel I am sometimes. So much time has passed and yet so little healing has taken place. Not a day goes by that I do not miss my father, that I don't wish I could ask him a question or ask his opinion on something. I think the hardest thing is knowing how well he and Pants would have gotten along. And what a great Granddaddy he would have been to Medium and Small Pants.

But then there are times that I think that two men seated in my den drinking cold beers, farting and endlessly discussing the nuances of the infield fly rule may have been more than I could possibly stand.

Listening To The Wind

2006-05-12T12:14:00.000-07:00

I keep going on and on about American Idol to avoid a really sad and tragic topic. While I do adore that show and have been accused of taking it way too seriously, I am trying to keep my mind off of news we got recently that is breaking my heart.

I have a very very dear friend who, since she is a private person, I will call Jennifer for this entry. She found out the other day that she has cancer. They found a mass on her uterus and as she was not having any more children, they decided to go ahead with a hysterectomy to be on the safe side. Once they got in there, it was bad. They did a complete hysterectomy, removed a large part of her lower intestine and her appendix. Things do not look good. The mass was malignant and she has to have chemo, although they have not yet determined what exact course they plan to take.

I do not have much experience with cancer and for that I am incredibly thankful. But my knowledge is very limited. I have so many questions, but do not feel it is appropriate to ask any of them just yet. I have talked to her a few times since we found this all out the other day, but mostly just to ask if I could help with anything, let her know I am thinking about her, etc.

Her dear husband is almost beside himself and they have the most cherubic five year old son who absolutely adores his mama. I guess what makes this so hard is also what makes me feel so guilty - she is the same age I am. This could be me. This could be my babies watching me struggling with this. Could I be as strong as she is being? Would I be handling this as well and as courageously as she is or would I be falling apart?

She has an extraordinary family and if anyone can pull through something like this - she can. Her parents and siblings are all very close and they will all pull together and fight this with her. Plus she has a circle of friends that love her dearly. Surely this will help her.

I am truly "Worst Case Scenario Girl" and when I hear bad news I always start at the worst possible conclusion and work my way back. I know it is the most stupid way to look at things, but I always do it. Thank God for Pants - he is the calming force. One thing is for sure - this has made me appreciate every moment even more. I sat on the front porch yesterday evening and watched the boys play. I zoned out and just sat there - watching them, forgetting about illness, bills, work, stress and sadness. I just sat and listened to their unbridled laughter. I heard things I had not consciously heard in years. Bees buzzing, birds chirping, dogs barking in the distance. Thinking about how quiet and sad my life would be without all the noises those two boys make and all the noises I was missing every day in my rush to get everything done. Things that weren't so important after all.

When they got tired, they came and joined me on the porch, one on either side of me, as close as they could get to me. Usually, that annoys me. But last night, I pulled them even closer, and there we sat. Side by side by side. Listening to the wind.

Yet Even More American Idol Blogging.....

2006-05-10T12:40:00.000-07:00

I just can't stop. I love this show.

I have no time whatsoever today, so I must be very very brief. I have to go meet with Medium Pants' Challenge teacher; who by the way looks strikingly like Gene Wilder, to discuss his class agenda for next year, go over TCAPS, etc. We have to do this every year and every year it is the same thing. He goes on and on about how brilliant and well-rounded Medium Pants is (for which I take full credit) and I can do absolutely nothing but sit there, stare at his hair and think of comments like...

"I'm a Fronkensteen."

"Abby Normal?"

"Perhaps I can help you with that hump."

"Uh-Oh, Bart. I think Mongo here's taken' a likin' to you."

So, as you can see, it's very hard for me to concentrate during this meeting. And maybe I should take back any and all credit for that child's intelligence. But I digress...

American Idol-

Katherine - Really stunk it up - way up. She should go home now. I like her, and if she had just stood there and sung her last song without all the runs and crap, she may have saved herself. But excuse me, you just don't fuck with The Big E. You don't play with Elvis tunes and try and jimmy them up and what Simon said was right on the money. No, not when he told Paula to shut up - when he told Katherine it was way over the top.

Elliot - Came out swingin' and is here to play. That was pretty impressive, and I would like to see him stay. And if you don't get it, you are just an idiot.

Chris - Put the mike stand down.

Taylor - You know I cannot say anything bad about him.

Oh, and let me wrap up by saying I think Tommy Mottola is an ass. I noticed he struggled to say one nice thing about my sweet little Mr. Tumnus and that pissed me off. I belive he said, "He'll really have to work hard to pull that off." Well he did didn't he Mr. Big Record Guy? I don't care whose career you have made (or whose nervous breakdown you can take credit for - Mariah) but you, my friend, are a complete self absorbed pompous ass.

Final word - bottom two should be Elliot and Taylor.

It's All "American Idol" In Here

2006-05-04T07:38:00.000-07:00

I have watched American Idol every season. I have not missed an episode. Not one. I remember Justin Guarini and his ridiculous hair. I remember Pink-Haired Girl. I remember Tamyra Gray. I remember Frenchie and all her Porn Star glory. I remember Paula before she was a drunken annoyance. I remember it all. And I must say that this is the best season. I has been hard for me to choose an absolute favorite.

The four left are the four I would have picked early on to be the final four. I despised Kellie Pickler and her stupid girl antics. No one can be that dumb, can they? Really? And when she said that her daddy and his friends watched her from prison every week, I just shook my head. Yeah, I'll just bet they do...and afterward, they all go back to their cells for a little fun, don't they? I am glad she is gone. She'll turn up somewhere I am certain. Like the pages of Hustler. Ace? Ewww, what a cheeseball. I'll bet he turns up gay. Just wait. He'll be on Broadway in Rent soon enough. Paris? Just never felt it for her. Too cutesy and that real voice, dear God, you thought Kathy Griffin was bad?

I will now critique each of the remaining finalists for your reading pleasure, enjoy.

Elliot: OK. I know he looks like a garden gnome, or better yet, Mr. Tumnus (if you do not know who that is, revisit your Sr. Lit class, please) but he can really sing. If you close your eyes - he is great! And with a little Hollywood spit and polish, my my - he would be one of the beautiful people. I just know it. He can really sing. And he loves his mama.

Katherine: She is beautiful - great hair, great boobs. I wish I had boobs like that. A little silly, but beautiful voice. I think the crawling around on her knees thing this week was a subliminal message to get the man vote - you go girl.

Chris: Delicious, no? I thought his version of Renegade was superb, but I run hot and cold on him. Some weeks I think he is great and others, not so much. I do think nasty thoughts about him EVERY week though.

Taylor: Love, love, love Taylor. I know he is a kook. When you realize that my favorite-est song of all time is "Brandy" by Looking Glass, you will understand why he is my pick to win.

At this point I really don't care who wins because I think they will all have contracts when it's over. I would buy a CD put out by Taylor or Elliot, but maybe not by Kat or Chris. Besides, if Elliot gets voted off, his poor mother might have a heart attack in the audience she looks so frail.

They are at Graceland this week practicing their Elvis (thank ya, thank ya vury much) so next week could quite possibly be a disaster. Hopefully not - Here is what I hope to hear:

Elliot: "Love Me Tender"

Katherine: "Are You Lonesome Tonight"

Chris: "Little Sister"

Taylor: "Suspicious Minds"

We shall see. No one does Elvis like Elvis, although I do love Dwight Yoakam's version of Supsicious Minds.

Warm Fuzzies and Crap Like That

2006-05-02T21:32:00.000-07:00

I admit it. I love Pants. Truly.

We work well together on all levels. We communicate well, we don't stew on minor issues, we appreciate each other (he needs a little work in that area, however...pick up your damn dirty socks, please because if I find one more pair under the ottoman, you will be pulling them out of your butt), we make each other laugh, we have great sex and he is who I turn to for everything. And I mean everything. If something is bothering me, I have girlfriends that I could call, but I usually just talk to him about it. I always get their opinions later, because, you know, women are better at some things, but I value his advice and opinion.

Our marriage is not perfect - we bicker sometimes over the normal things. I work a full time job and come home only to work another. I take care of the entire household - laundry, cleaning, getting the kids up and ready every morning, etc. The latter is only because he leaves before they even get up and in his defense, he cooks out on the grill a ton - I am no Betty Crocker. I feel that I don't even get to sit down until the last kid is in bed asleep and then sometimes it's just so I can fold clothes. But I guess that is all part of being an adult and a parent. It's that whole, you don't appreciate all that I do spiel that all mothers contend with.

I am droning on and on about how lovely Pants is because I have several friends whose marriages are kinda rocky. One is a wonderful loving woman who puts up with way too much shit. Basically her husband is an ass. They like labels. Alot. Supposedly he has ADD, ADHD, OCD and Depression but takes nothing for any of it. When he was being a total jerk in the wintertime, he had that "SAD" thingy or whatever it is when some people don't get enough sunlight. YAWN...... Well, he's being one again and I asked her the other day what was his problem now, too much sun? She said no, he just has cycles. Cycles? CYCLES?? I said, "Hey, I know what his label is...PRICK."

I apparently had a bout of depression late last year, but can not imagine thinking it would be okay to speak to my spouse the way he speaks to her. Instead of turning on Pants, I turned to him - I leaned on him - I guess that is us in a nutshell. However, in contrast, he tells her constantly that he is miserable and unhappy and he needs to be left alone. If she were me, I'd be saying ok, buddy and be leaving him and all his shit alone at the curb with the locksmith in the driveway. Just me, I guess. But I know people will continue to do what they are allowed to do, so as long as she puts up with it, I keep my mouth shut for the most part. When she gets her fill, she'll go. Or she may be one of those that thrives on the rollercoaster ride.

I guess because Pants and I had both been through really crappy relationships before we met, we already knew what we would put up with and what would not be tolerated. Dealbreakers are cheating or physical abuse. The physical abuse I would never have to worry about with Pants. The cheating - very very doubtful. I am not stupid. I would love to say that he would never do that and that is what I truly believe. But I would not be the type to ignore any signs either. I learned a long time ago that you can make yourself sick worrying about that shit. He knows what he stands to lose if he is a big enough idiot to do that and if it's worth it to him.... The same goes for me, he would walk out with the boys in a heartbeat if I betrayed him. It is not worth it. Why would you throw away your life and your family for that? I know how much him doing it to me would hurt me and I could never hurt him like that. Besides, Paul Newman said it best - "Why go out for hamburger when you have steak at home?"

We just appreciate each other and know that neither of us EVER wants to venture into the dating scene again. Not to mention that it was written into our marriage contract that whomever decides to leave has to take the kids. I'm not going anywhere.

There is some fine print though at the bottom of the contract that states if Matthew Maconaghey ever shows up on our doorstep, I cannot be held accountable for what might occur. Yes, Pants, it really says that. It's really really small print. Don't you see it?

Party Time. That's Right. You Heard Me.

2006-05-02T13:43:00.000-07:00

Well, it's done. I just mailed the check for the deposit on the petting zoo/pony party. Here's the thing about Pants. He is an incurable tightwad - he pours over every receipt I give him, every thing I say I want to buy and every single bill that comes in. Now don't misunderstand, I don't buy anything unless it's on sale! But his "frugality" is a very good counteraction to my "Well, that is a very pretty color, it's on sale and I think I need it" method of buying.

He doesn't give me too hard a time and we have the agreement that any major (over $100) purchase must first be discussed. Most of the things I buy are for the house or the kids and I really have curbed that whole shopping addiction, so it's ok. After discussing the party - he said he knew that it was what I wanted and agreed that Small Pants would enjoy it. He then said that while he thought it was too much for some smelly animals, if I wanted it, we would do it.

So there you have it - Small Pants will be channelling John Wayne on his birthday and I know the smiles and giggles eminating from that child will more than make up for the measley $250 it is costing. Besides, I wanted this so much, I gave up my dream of a hydranga bed on the side of the house this year. I still plan to work on getting that koi pond though....

I just have to plan the sneak attack when Pants has forgotten about this party expenditure.

In case you needed more proof we are a perfect pair.....

2006-04-28T07:02:00.000-07:00

Me: "I want to have one of those traveling petting zoos come here for Small Pants' birthday party. I think he would love it."

Pants: "How much does it cost?"

Me: "Well, they have options. They can bring just the animals, small bunnies, goats, lambs, things like that. Or they can bring those and ponies for pony rides. They also have trains and stuff. It would be so much fun."

Pants: "How much does it cost?"

Me: "Well, when you consider a putt-putt party is about $10 a kid, it's really reasonable. I would like to do the pony rides, but don't care so much about the train."

Pants: "How much?"

Me: "$250"

Pants: "I'm not freakin' payin' $250 for some damn goat to come shit in my yard."

Yes, it's all puppies and butterflies here, folks.

Difficulty Finding Focus

2006-04-27T11:49:00.000-07:00

I have several blogs that I stop in on and read every day - some are linked here, some are not. I also read Rockstarmommy, Suburbanbliss & Dooce as well as a few others. One day I will get around to linking all my favs. It's hard for me to figure out and it takes time, people - a commodity of which I often run quite short!

That being said, I am well aware that I have no real focus for my blog or "blob" as I prefer to call it. Some lean toward the political, others speak about their everyday lives, some share stories of birthing babies, some talk about current crime stories and so on. The crime factor is how I began my life in the blog world. I became so involved with the Laci Peterson case that I luckily happened upon a site called "Observations of a Misfit." The Author, Loretta, is a brilliant writer who provided amazing insight and knowledge of the case as well as an arena for comments. This arena allowed those who were also at a loss as to why someone would have done this to talk to others and bounce thoughts off each other, speculate and comiserate. It is where I found many friends whose emotions on this case were just as deep and angry as mine. She is a wonderful blogger and writer and should be credited with getting many of us novices started (although she probably doesn't want that known, given the crap you have read here!). She has a focus.

I do not. I don't want to write about politics - too volatile for me. The true crime blogs are so numerous and not all the cases interest me. And to be perfectly honest, some of them are just far too depressing and revolting to even discuss in depth. The list can go on and on and never end there. I have resigned myself to the fact that I may never have a real focus here.

I guess that should be okay and I should accept that. Do I have to have a "subject matter?" A focus? A topic? I think it's best to just hit you with what is making me think (or pissing me off as the case may be) that day - whether it's an injustice in the checkout line, sibling annoyances, a bedwetter or Pants incredible hotness. You are at my mercy. Since the title of my blog is what it is, then the subject matter must be attuned to it, right? Life is unpredictable, isn't it? So then, must be the topics here.

Hmmm.....maybe next time I will talk about either childbirth or global warming. Oh, how about that old spotted owl? Gosh, when you don't put yourself in a box the possibilities are just ENDLESS, aren't they?

The one in which you learn about Pants' "Oookey Dance"

2006-04-20T22:18:00.000-07:00

I have a very good excuse, I swear. I had surgery. I had what is called a septoplasty and turbinectomy. Just an aside - if you are ever going in for some kind of surgery, do NOT go to GOOGLE, type in the name of said surgery and then click "images." No, bad dog.

Anyway, the septum is that cartalidge that separates your nostrils and God only knows what turbinates are. My septum was all walleyed and I had bone spurs so basically, she cut up my septum and moved it over and then roto-rootered out my honker. A little slicin' and dicin'. Wait, that is not the fun part - you still don't know about the oookey dance.

Here's the bone-chilling eye watering portion of the story and thus the birth of the oookey dance. After this surgery, they cram what is basically two super plus tampons up your nose until they hit your brain. This is called "packing." Yes, appropriate was my thought also. I swear with all that jammed in my nose, I looked like I had Mike Tyson's nose - very attractive. That stayed in there for a whole day - no air coming - no air going.

Here's the part that you have waited patiently for..... the removal of the packing. She asked me if I was ready. I said well shit no, but we can sit here all day and look at each other - just do it. Dear God. I had a 9 pound 7 ounce child without an epidural and compared to the packing being removed from my nose, that was like shelling peas. When she gave that old packing a yank, I cursed that poor woman like the syphlitic whore she is. She pulled my toes up through my nose - I swear I have never hurt that bad. Tears were streaming down my face - I wasn't crying, it was just the natural eye watering. Just mass quantities. Add to that the blood pouring from my nose into the bed pan thingy I am holding under my nose. If I had not taken pain killers before even leaving the house, I would have thrown up right there in the doctor's office. FYI - I did apologize for cussing her after it was over. She said it was ok and that one time a man had swung at her when she removed his. I just nodded and said, "Yep, I can see that."

Let me clarify - I am no wimp. I have broken bones, torn ligaments as well as the aforementioned birthing of a freakishly large child (two, in fact). So, I am no stranger to pain and do have a high tolerance for it. I didn't even cry when my shoulder was dislocated in a car wreck and then that cute paramedic popped it back into place on the side of the highway since I refused to go to the hospital because I would have been late for the INXS concert.

This was a pain like no one who has not done this would understand. How bad could it be, you ask. Picture 20-30 stitches inside your nose and every inch of it being crammed with now bone dry cotton. BONE DRY!Then....YANK! Oh, not enough for you? YANK again! There we're finished. I must say that as soon as she pulled them out, she sprayed some numbing stuff up my nose and there was immediate relief. Now honestly I do not know if that was from the spray or the very bright white light.........I don't know. Everyone I seem to mention it to winces - kinda like guys do when they see another guy get whacked in the nuts. Don't furrow your brow - you know exactly what I am talking about. It sometimes is accompanied by an "oh!"

So, for fun, I mention the packing removal and the subsequent scab removal at my next visit and Pants does this weird thing I have deemed the Oookey Dance. He cocks his head to one side, squints his eyes, pulls one knee up and down and does this chicken walk thing and follows that all up with a shiver and a strange "sheewhoosh" sound. Hmmmm. Now that I am picturing it in my head, perhaps I should rename it the "Joe Cocker Dance."

How sad are we that this is what I do for fun? The bad thing is that he doesn't know that I mention it just to see his oookey dance. I guess he will when he reads this. Damn, I will have to resort to showing some movie with some guy getting racked in the balls just for giggles now. Have you ever noticed how their hand automatically goes to protect the "jewels" also? Even when they just see it happen on tv? What is with that? I don't grab my boob when I see some girl get her boob grabbed on tv. Men are just weird and yet they say we are the ones that can't be understood. Crazy fuckers.

Just consider this post residual painkiller nonsense. I am now going into the den and mention scab removal or getting tampons plucked out of my nose, then I am going to sit back and watch the show. It will be even better now, because I will be humming "You Can Leave Your Hat On" in my head.

The Art of Parenting Through Bribery

2006-03-07T12:10:00.000-08:00

Bribery. It is a lovely thing. I, in fact, would not mind being bribed more often. Cash, jewelry - I will admit it. I can be bought. Not in all instances, mind you, but some. Knowing my weakness for bribery, we decided to see if it was also passed on genetically.

Small Pants had been getting up every night atleast once and coming in our room. Usually with the onset of said visit beginning at around 1:00 am. He didn't ask to get in our bed. He just stood by my side (I must digress here and say What the hell? Go to your father's side damnit! I always went to my Daddy's side when I needed something - he was there to protect me. That women who slept beside him? She cooked and cleaned. Daddy was the great warrior, not her. If I needed a snack, mom, you're the girl, but if something frightened me I was beelining it to Daddy's side - ahh Karma, I know you well) and whined until I asked him what he wanted, to which he always replied "I don't know." I would tell him to go potty and then take him back to his room and put him in bed. Bear in mind, we do not live in a mansion, but we do have a bathroom for the boys. Located conveniently near their bedrooms (how crazy is that?). He would sometimes come back, sometimes not but it really didn't matter because I could not go back to sleep.

Those of you not familiar with me need to know the following:

I MUST HAVE PLENTY OF SLEEP.

I love sleep. It might just be my best friend. Now do not misunderstand - I am not the type to nap during the day or on weekends and sleeping in for me consists of getting up at the ridiculously late hour of 8:00 am. I know, I know - sleeping the day away you say! No, I am not a napper, but when I go to bed at night, I cannot run on all cylinders unless I have 7-8 hours of UNINTERRUPTED sleep. Needless to say, Small Pants was working on being sent to military school after about the third week of this night after night nonsense.

I was always calm and sweet when I would put him back in his bed. I would even kiss him goodnight again all with the assumption that he had just gotten into a bad habit. No, a godforsaken - mind-altering - sure to result in the death of his mother - habit.

So, I turned to bribery. It began with the promise of the stretchable lizards he so loves. One every morning that he slept in his own bed and used his own bathroom at night and did not disturb me. He has a lovely collection of the repulsive little bastards now. We then sat down with him and discussed how he was such a big boy and if he could do it for two straight weeks, he could get a prize for moving up on the totem pole of growth. His request? A red Power Ranger costume. I told him this would be his last reward for this big boy accomplishment and he was ok with that.

I am proud to announce that said Power Ranger costume was purchased at the Gates of Hell (oh, sorry, I mean Toys R Us) Saturday afternoon. He is doing wonderfully. And I am getting my much beloved sleep. Oh, dear Small Pants, my crows feet thank you so very much.

I'M A LOSER, BABY........

2006-02-27T13:04:00.000-08:00

I will begin by saying, "I am sorry."

It's been over a month since an entry and as dear Lisa would say "You thought I was dead in a ditch, didn't you?" No, just busy as an exlax brownie eating kitten covering up shit.

So with this entry comes a confession. I am addicted to cheesy Hollywood/Celebrity gossip. The crappy gossip mags? Like candy to me. I am much like the common crow - I see something shiny and I drop everything and am drawn to said shiny object. They know this. C'mon, you didn't think that "Star", "OK" and "In Touch" had such smooth shiny covers just because, did you? I will buy them and try to hide them on the grocery conveyor. Right there next to the yogurt, breath mints and paper towels. So, I will now give you a run-down of the latest big stories and my opinion. Yes, I know you want my opinion, be patient while I gather my thoughts.

Tom & Katie - I refuse to call them Tomkat. He is a midget gay cult freak and she used to be cute. Dear God, I can only hope he is paying her ridiculously well. All a hoax and she should be ashamed. She will regret it when the aliens come to take the baby and her anal probe is removed. Perhaps she will come to her senses then.

Jessica & Nick - I am personally saddened by their demise. I always thought they were a cute couple. She actually has a good voice - she needs to fire that boob obsessed father of hers and distance herself from him - he is just plain creepy.

Keith & Nicole - He is cute, but way TOO short. Dear Nicole, I promise there is a handsome tall man out there for you, just wait. Besides, they say he is a player... Move on Nicole - If you can keep your mouth shut about Gay Dwarf Boy and all his idiosyncracies, you deserve a medal and so much more.

Paris Hilton - Why is she even a celebrity? I mean, any girl can spread her legs for every boy. Besides, she has a horrendous lazy eye - doesn't she have enough money to get that fixed?

Brad & Angelina - Again, I refuse to attach that stupid name squishing thing that people have been doing - She is a freaky slut who used to do her brother. Even with all her do-gooder crap, let's not forget she is an incestuous little whore. And Brad, you used to be so cute. Now you are just a simpering puppy who follows his master everywhere. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Jennifer Aniston - Honey, please be done with the "cross to bear" crap - someone needs the wood. Enough I'm ok, really, - I don't think anyone really cares. But you do have my sympathies on the ex's new baby. I am sure that made you wince a little. Oh, and Vince Vaughn...... Dear, you are supposed to trade UP on the rebound. Not settle. But if he makes you laugh, I'll concede.

Well, that was a wonderfully meaty selection of topics, no? I should try harder to come up with some thought provoking entry that makes people question their beliefs, but alas, that will be another day. I would really like a nap right about now, truthfully, so I can't be too intellectual right now.

So, until next time, my minions. And I will really try not to be gone so long next time. It's not like I was on vacation or anything.

2006-01-16T12:35:00.000-08:00

Life is Good

I have been so very busy lately that I haven't been posting or even reading my favorite blogs! It's like a withdrawl or something, and it's been very painful. So I'll stop in and get a little fix, no?

Mr. Pants got a call last week from the employer who laid him off right at Christmas. They wanted him back very badly and have a big new job at Fed Ex. They offered him a foreman position and a work truck. Now, if any of you or anyone you know is in the construction industry, you know that a work truck is something to trade a good kidney for! When he left a previous job and lost the work truck, it ended up costing us almost $500 additional a month, due to gas, upkeep, etc. So, they said they want him to stay and retire there. Since retirement is quite a long time away for Mr. Pants, the deal was a great one. He started there this morning.
In his line of work, people switch companies fairly often and it's no big deal. They go where the work is.

On my side of the world, my new job is going well. I was very afraid that given my somewhat fragile state in the recent months, this would be a very difficult transition for me. Surprisingly, it hasn't been too bad. I mentioned to someone this weekend that if I had been leaving a job I hated, I would be happy as a clam. I don't really "miss" anything about my old job except my boss. I swear, he would win awards. If anyone is moving to this area and works in the insurance brokerage arena, let me know - I'll get you the hook-up with the world's best boss EVER!

I have an idea for an entry that I will get together either tonight or tomorrow. I apologize for being so very boring as of late. I'll try to step that up.

Not so bad after all

2006-01-03T21:49:00.000-08:00

I started my new job today. It's not so bad after all. Everyone seemed very nice, my office has a window, I get off 30 minutes earlier and I have a fancy new computer. So, I shouldn't complain. There was an uneven ratio of men to women in the office, and while I am much more comfortable working with men than women, all the ladies seem very nice. Usually, you put that many women together in one spot and the meowing begins. They have all been working together for a few years, so maybe they aren't that type.

I do miss my old boss terribly, but we e-mailed each other a couple of times and his sarcasm perked me up. I swear though, if I win that freakin' powerball, he has got it made!

We had a nice quiet New Year's at home with the neighbors. We haven't been out on New Year's Eve in forever. I just am not a big fan of two things: crowds and dying as a result of a drunk driver. There are just too many on the streets that night and maybe 15 years ago it was fun. Not so much now. We played that Scene It game - the TV edition. I royally sucked at it. I'll just go ahead and offend Veterans everywhere - I HATE M*A*S*H*. So help me God, every other question was about that Tranny or the Hot Lips chick (who wasn't so very hot in my opinion - I guess when you are at war, shagging the hound isn't such a bad thing).

Well, now that that is done. I have been ridiculously busy this week and this look like they may ease up in the next few days. Let's hope so.

It's All Over...

2005-12-27T13:17:00.000-08:00

Well, it's all over. Christmas that is. While ours was not quite the Norman Rockwell picture we had all hoped, it was nice. Mr. Pants and I opted not to exchange gifts - partly because there was nothing we really wanted and partly because of lack of funds. Medium and Small Pants were very happy with their gifts. I didn't overdo this year and got them a few things that they really wanted, and some more small fun things. Small pants has taken off his baseball "kweets" from Santa only to bathe and sleep and has been talking to his "Furby" nonstop. He has them on at preschool today. Medium Pants has been madly snapping pictures with his digital camera and having tons of fun with his "Spy Gear" stuff.

And, luckily, this was NOT the year for someone to snap at the family get together. I expect it will happen some year, either me, my brother or my sister-in-law will just have more than enough one day. You will note that I did not mention my sister as a possible "snapper." That would be because she would be the reason for said snap. That would be a tremendously lengthy post, and I am not sure I can say it all concisely. Suffice it to say, that we have all tired of her superior attitude, laziness (read unemployed by choice), mooching (off my mother and child support), snottiness and general bitchiness. Yes, it may be me who snaps. To be quite honest, I am surprised I haven't done it yet. She is in such desperate need of her comeuppance. I guess the thing that keeps me from doing it is the fact that in my mother's eyes, she can do no wrong. Anyone of us who would speak ill of her would be banished from the house and not allowed to return. While that really would have no effect on me, it would hurt my children, so I bite my tounge.

Oddly enough, Medium Pants has made some comments lately that make me think that he much more attuned to her and her attitude that we thought. You will be proud in knowing that I said that he was not being nice and it was wrong to ridicule her. I then turned, left the room and did a little dance behind a closed door. AHA! Someone else gets it! It's not all in my mind.

She's one of those "My child is perfect and does no wrong" Mothers. Yep, The Princess starts school next year - oh, to be a fly on the wall for that.

But I have digressed far enough. I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and while you may not have received everything on your list, I hope you didn't kick anyone's ass this year. Unless, of course, they really, really deserved it. Then it would be ok - 'tis the season.

And So It Begins....

2005-12-21T08:57:00.000-08:00

Well, we found out yesterday afternoon that Mr. Pants is getting laid off today. That is not good news. The only bonus to the new situation is that I now do not feel quite so guilty about taking that new job. He is a welder/steamfitter (read hot) and work around here is just slow right now.

And the beat goes on..... Atleast we are almost completely finished with Christmas shopping. Both boys spent Saturday night with my mom and we hit Target, Toys R Us, Old Navy and Walmart. We then had a nice steak at Colton's along with a few Coors Lights. All in all, a very pleasant evening. We have just two more Lowe's gift cards and we are through. Hey, don't ridicule, these people asked for Lowe's gift cards!

Hopefully he will get on with another company soon. We cannot afford for him to be out of work for long - I only have one good kidney, so selling it on e-bay is out of the question. I wonder how much I could get for a sliver of my liver? It's not even rock hard yet. If you need it, you may want to catch me before New Year's.

Update - He will be going to work for another company in the morning. That's right, the man hasn't even been unemployed for an hour and he gets another job. Thank goodness, because I can be that perky and upbeat for only so long, you know.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

2005-12-20T15:35:00.000-08:00

None of that "Happy Holidays" nonsense. Let's not forget what this holiday is truly about and what should really be celebrated. I thank God every day for these two blessings. Even with all my issues and neurosis, I realize that I am truly blessed and very fortunate.

Sheesh, there is no way I will get it all done!

2005-12-12T12:07:00.000-08:00

Holy Crap. I will never get everything finished before Christmas gets here. First of all, we are flat broke and with the possibility of Mr. Pants being laid off, we have to pinch what we do have. That said, I still have a few gifts to get for the kids and then the whole rest of our families.

All in favor of gift exchange for kids only, please raise your hands? In Pant's family, all the adults and kids draw names, so everyone just gets one good gift. In my family, the adults draw names, but every kid gets a gift from everyone. That can get pricey. I would think, a kid would rather have one $50 good gift than 4 or 5 crappy $10 gifts. Maybe that's just me. My mother balked at the whole name-drawing concept when mentioned by me 10 years ago. She drew her nose up so high, I could literally see the very back of her brain. A few years ago, she relented, but still doesn't seem to care for it much. That would be a whole 'nother post, one made most likely after she is long gone.

I am so stressed out this year, I hope the look on the kids faces Christmas morning makes up for all this. I am sure it will, until the "I really wanted this.....and I didn't get it." starts. That should be about 1:30 pm on Christmas day.

Gearing up for Santa

2005-11-30T11:08:00.000-08:00

Oh. My. God.

It is November 30. I have so much Christmas stuff left to do. Every year I say I am getting an early start. Every year, I DO get an early start on the toys requested by Medium and Small Pants. I am almost finished with them with the exception of a few small things. I have everyone else to buy for now. And no money to do it with.

Luckily, Mr. Pants and my family draw names, so that gives everyone a break, but there are still a ton of gifts to buy.

How tacky is it to just get a buttload of giftcards????

Giving Thanks

2005-11-23T21:28:00.000-08:00

I have been lax in my posting - it's been over a week.

Shamefully in honor of Thanksgiving, I will take a moment and comment on what I am and should be thankful for. I have a wonderful husband (Pants) who, while he may not always say the perfect thing at the perfect time, he is sincere, honest, very hot and truly loves me. I have two wonderful beautiful sons. The oldest is having a difficult time right now, as he (Medium Pants) is 9 years old and knows everything. We are having some issues with his attitude and tone - he is wonderfully polite to everyone else, thank God, but uses a tone with us that makes the hair on my neck stand up. If I had used that tone as a child, I would have required dentures. But he is a sweet and smart boy, and we will work through this - sweet baby Jesus, tell me it's just a phase.

I have been having some troubles lately - mainly I believe I am suffering from depression. If you knew my mother, you would know the gravity of my actually uttering those words. "We just don't have those kind of mental problems. Only weak people say they are depressed and it's just because they don't have the wherewithall to suck it up." That being said, I should make an appointment with a doctor. But I am terrified of doing that - who wants to cut themselves open for someone to evaluate and analyze? Not me - besides, what if I uncover something that hadn't occured to me before? I don't mean some repressed abuse as a child - didn't happen. But what if I discover that I am even more inadequate than I already think I am - what if I have even more repulsive flaws than I originally thought? Frightening, to say the very least.

Anyway, back to the whole "Giving Thanks" concept. I guess hidden between the fear and the denial is guilt. Why should I be sad - I have so much in comparison to some people. The fact that I feel sad all the time is shameful. I have a great family (all the pants), a wonderful home, good friends, a dysfunctional family (mom and sibs) that is ridiculously entertaining and we are all healthy and safe. What the hell am I bitching about. The fact is, I do not know. At first, when this all began, it was like a big dark cloud. I assumed (incorrectly) that I must be sad all the time and crying every day because my marriage must not be working. Pants isn't romantic enough, he doesn't listen, I have no time for myself, etc and blah, blah. But after months of introspection, I painfully realized that it is I who has the problem. Yes, there are things I would like to alter slightly with respects to Pants, but no dealbreakers - he is a good man. The fact that stood, staring me in the face, was that I am the one who is inadequate. I was so busy trying to figure out the "reason" for the way I felt, that I was far too quick to blame us.

That mirrored reflection was startling and abrasive. So, I have been coming to grips with the fact that I may have what is considered a mental illness - it ain't easy. I am ashamed and embarrassed. The stigma, one which I helped perpetuate out of ignorance, is suffocating. Perhaps whan I do finally get in to talk to someone, some of that will be erased.

Okay, now again this giving thanks thing (bring it around town, spongebob). I am thankful that I have a husband who allows me to be so very and strangely suddenly fragile. He accepts this and has readily stepped up to help me. He is as in the dark as I am about this whole thing, so we will learn together. I know that I can lean on him and he will take care of me - my only real fear now is wondering for how long. I don't want him to be the man with the sick wife. So this weekend, I will give thanks that he is here - even if it is just for right now. Before this all gets ugly.

A Sad Day, Indeed

2005-11-11T12:59:00.000-08:00

Well, yesterday was actually the terribly sad day. I was offered a new job. Better position in the grand scheme of things. I know, I know. You are asking, "How could that be a sad day, Whiner?" It's because if this - I love my boss. He is wonderful, kind, smart and funny. Now when I say I love him, I don't mean in a creepy stalker Sean Young kind of way. I just have a great deal of respect for him and he has been the best boss I have ever had.

I did not want to take this new job because I am very happy here. But I also have created some credit card debt for my family that needs to be addressed in a more assertive manner. Meaning - I have to get that shit paid off. The whole debt/guilt thing will have to be another post. It's just too much for one day.

So, you combine the guilt of putting my family in debt (I have surrendered my cards to Mr. Pants and will not be buying any new purses or shoes - but ask me sometime about my big red leather Tommy purse - I swear it was a steal!) with the guilt of leaving my most favorite boss of all time in a bind by leaving and it equals....... class? Anyone? Yes, that's right!! Shitloads of tears, stomachaches, migraines and sleepless nights!

Anyway, I took the job.

No, I am not terribly excited. I am not a big fan of change, you see. I am sure it will be just fine, they seem very nice and I have a friend who worked there and said it was great. It kinda sucks because I am very happy stay here! I didn't go looking for this. I despise the thought of my dear boss having to stay at the office half the night doing his job and mine. I just keep telling myself that I created this debt and I have to take care of it. This is the high price I must pay for being such a dumbass and buying crap I didn't need. The alternative was my husband getting a second job and never seeing me or the boys. Their names would be Medium Pants and Small Pants. I would just have to add that guilt to my stack and it just seemed like way too much, don't you think?

So, I will start my new job at the first of the year. I promise if I win the lottery, I am sending my favorite boss of all time a big fat check. This would be not only to help him out, but to also assuage all my guilt. That is going to have to be one humongous gi-fucking-gantic check.

Back to the Grind

2005-11-07T13:05:00.000-08:00

Well, back at work after an uneventful and boring weekend. We did take the boys to the park with the neighbors and their kids - all 4 boys played for about 3 hours, with NO crying, pushing or name calling. Is this a sign of the Apocolypse?

I am on the hunt for a fuzzy puppy - both boys want one for Christmas. I want it housebroken before it gets really cold. Hopefully we will find just the right one.

Nothing exciting, so I'll try and think up a good rant later.

Update - we got a fuzzy puppy. He is cute and we named him Spike. I am too stressed to be really happy about it, though. See post above "Sad Day Indeed" for explanation.

I'm just sayin'....

2005-11-04T14:14:00.000-08:00

Just so you will know what kind of people you are dealing with here...

Snippets of Life

2005-11-04T11:41:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone.

After being thoroughly addicted to a few other blogs, I decided to get my own. It seemed like a good way to get ideas out of my head, as well as the occasional rant. You know, sometimes you witness something and you just HAVE to tell someone - this usually happens to me at Walmart, and let me tell you, it is never pretty. It usually involves cellulite and spandex. Frightening.

Anyway, we'll see how this goes.